


Sometimes Untraditional Therapy Is The Best

by Illusinia



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Discussion of physical abuse, F/M, discussion of brain washing, discussion of child abuse, discussion of mental and emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 51,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illusinia/pseuds/Illusinia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint realizes one day that Darcy isn't just his therapist anymore. And he wonders how the heck that happened.</p><p>The story of Clint's unusual therapy sessions with a quirky former intern that turned into a strange friendship built on mutual understanding and finally a solid relationship of trust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really don't know where I'm going with this. Seriously, it's a complete mystery but it was haunting my mind like a bloody ghost. (I'd blame Loki, but this isn't his thing).

“Clint Barton?”

 

A soft voice Clint didn't recognize cut through the air, drawing him out of his head and into reality again. Reality; possibly the last place he wanted to be right now. Glancing at the bottle in his hand, then the drop below, he reconsidered for a moment if drinking while sitting on the edge of the roof of Stark Tower was a good idea. Okay, there wasn't any reconsideration. He knew it wasn't his brightest move ever. No one could blame him though, not with the way they looked at him. Even Natasha looked weary, like she couldn't completely trust him. And he didn't blame them one bit.

 

He'd killed people important to him. Yeah, he'd been brain-washed while doing it, but he'd still been the one making the shots. The one who's hand released the arrow. No one should trust him right now. And they definitely shouldn't be sneaking up on him while he's sitting on the edge of a roof, drinking. That was just a bad idea in general unless you wanted to be scrubbing blood of the sidewalk. “Didn't your parents ever teach you not to sneak up on people?”  
  


“Actually, my dad encouraged it,” replied the voice, female and dismissive. Like his surly attitude didn't matter. “But then again, I couldn't sneak up on him.”

 

Finally lifting his eyes away from the ground below, Clint glanced behind him to see who was actually stupid enough to come talk with him. The first thing he noticed was the bulky sweater she was wearing; the color patterns across the surface were simple geometric shapes and a little hard to miss. The second thing he realized was that the sweaters bulk wasn't actually all _bulk_. The girl definitely had a good-sized rack under the sweater. And he really shouldn't think something like that about someone as young as this girl. Seriously, she was 10 years younger than him _at least_.

 

Forcing his mind from the gutter (where it definitely didn't need to be), he managed to focus on her face. He had to admit, she was pretty. Her hair was a little untamed, but it somehow worked; gave her a more wild look. Black-framed glasses rested on her nose, bulkier than he would have thought a girl like her would wear but somehow flattering. It was her eyes that surprised him though: honest, calm, fearless orbs of blue that almost seemed to look _through_ him in so many ways he didn't want to consider it.

 

“I'm going to take that snark as a 'yes' to my initial question, by the way,” commented the girl, drawing him again from his thoughts and into reality. She didn't seem fearful of him at all as she approached and dropped onto the roof-top beside where he was sitting. Apparently, heights didn't frighten her. “Steve said I could find you up here. He also said you might have beer; I'm hoping that part is true.”

 

One of Clint's eyebrows rose but he tossed one of his beers at her none the less. If she was brave enough to face him up here, she at least deserved a beer for her efforts.

 

She fumbled a little as she caught it, just managing to not drop it into the dust on the roof. “Thanks.”

 

“No problem, Babe Ruth,” replied Clint, his eyes watching her face for signs of insult. He'd never met this girl before; hell, he's pretty sure he'd remember if he'd even seen her around. But if she was in the tower talking with Steve, obviously she wasn't a stranger and didn't have any villainous intentions. At least, none anyone knew about.

 

The woman just snorted and popped open the beer. “Hey, we can't all be baseball legends. Or basketball ones for that matter.” Taking a gulp, she set the bottle aside and refocused completely on him. “I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume you don't know who I am.”

 

“Good assumption,” confirmed Clint, sipping at his own beer. “'course, I've always been told my assumptions make me more of an ass and to stop making them, so maybe I shouldn't talk.”

 

“Probably not,” agreed the woman. “At least if some of the assumptions I've heard about you making are true.” She offered him a smile before introducing herself, though she carefully kept her hands occupied so she didn't have to offer him either. “I'm Darcy Lewis, just so you know.”

 

Clint nodded, not sure what to say to that. It had been a while since he'd had normal, civilian conversations. At least, ones where he wasn't undercover. “Good to meet you?”

 

Darcy smirked a little, sipping her beer. “You don't sound so sure about that.”

 

“Depends on why you're introducing yourself,” replied Clint with a shrug. “So, why are you?”

 

“Fury,” replied Darcy easily. There's a pause and he can see her debating what she's going to say next. She seems to decide though, pushing forward. “And Phil.”

 

Clint closed his eyes at the mention of his former boss. His former friend. The friend who's dead because of _him._ Because he led an assault against the helicarrier. Because he wasn't strong enough fend off Loki's mind control. And that wasn't even touching on the fact that he'd tried to kill his partner/friend in the process. God, he was a fuck-up. Just like his father had always said. Like his brother had implied more than once.

 

“It isn't your fault, you know,” commented Darcy mildly, one hand fiddling with her beer bottle. Her voice brought him back to reality again like a bucket of cold water. “What you did under Loki's power, it wasn't you.”

 

“Right,” scoffed Clint, voice grim and weary. “That's like saying Natasha wasn't actually the one who killed a bunch of people for the Soviets.”

 

The look Darcy gave him was a combination of 'really?' and 'you are so dense'. It wasn't the look he was expecting from someone who Fury wanted to help him. “When Loki touched his scepter to your chest, it was like he reached into your very soul, right? Removed your conscious, removed your ability to control your own actions, and ultimately turned you into a living doll.”

 

Clint was definitely looking at Darcy now. He was looking at her with a slack-jawed expression that he knew conveyed his surprise. And why wouldn't he be. It was like she'd somehow reached into his mind and saw what had been done to him. A feat he'd recently learned was completely possible.

 

She continued though, completely oblivious to any discomfort he was showing. “He didn't change you- he blocked part of your being so you couldn't get to it. He trapped you in your own body by putting up a handful of walls.”

 

“So, what, you're saying you've experienced this?” challenged Clint at last, choking a little on his words. “You've been trapped inside yourself?”

 

“No,” corrected Darcy, voice still calm and even. “I've never been in your exact position, but I can still understand what he did to you. And I know how much it can screw a person up.”

 

It was starting to unnerve him how unreactive she was to everything. To him. She should be afraid of him, so why wasn't she? Why wasn't she hiding inside with the others? Why was she up here on a roof with a man who'd tried to kill his own friend? Who's actions had caused the death of one of the few people he trusted. “Why are you here.”

 

Darcy shrugged. “Like I said, Fury asked me to talk to you.” She paused again, fingers rolling the bottle's neck easily. “It was Phil's idea, originally. He wanted me to talk with you when they got you back- and no, it was never a question. Phil was determined to get you back. But he knew...he knew you'd need someone to talk with afterwords. His plan was to bring me in when you were secured so I could talk with you.”

 

“So why didn't that happen?” challenged Clint. “If that was the master plan, why didn't any of you go through with it? And why you?”

 

“Fury didn't like it,” replied Darcy with a touch of a growl. “He didn't like the idea of bringing a civilian onto the Helicarrier, especially not to play therapist to one of his agents.”

 

“He has trained staff for this shit,” pointed out Clint. “And a military complex isn't a place for a civilian.”

 

“After the attack, Fury felt the same way,” confirmed Darcy, face still drawn into a scowl. “That's why he left me in Norway with Jane rather than coming to get me like he was supposed to.”

 

Clint nodded, eying Darcy wearily. Apparently, Fury had changed his mind. What Clint wanted to know, and what Darcy still hadn't told him, was why. “Apparently he changed his mind. Now, why you?”

 

Darcy shrugged a little. “Like I said, it was Phil's idea.”  
  


“Right,” growled Clint, “'cause Coulson would ask a civilian to play therapist.”

 

Again, she shrugged. “I'm pretty sure Phil picked me because he thought it'd be easier on you.” Tilting her head back, she finished the beer he'd handed her and stood. “And there's two things I already know: you don't trust me and you're wondering why I'm not afraid of you.”

 

He raised both his eyebrows while simultaneously attempting to keep his panic down. Seriously, how the hell did she figure out what was going through his head? The whole mind-reader theory was starting to look less like horse crap by the minute.

 

Offering him a faint smile, she waved slightly as she turned to walk away. “Fury still wants you to talk with me, but clearly you need to talk with him before we do. Come find me when you're feeling a little less defensive. I promise, I don't bite.” With that, she slipped through the door that led onto the roof, leaving him sitting at the edge of the building feeling somewhere between a little scared and borderline violated. Seriously, who was this girl?

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“So Fury said he hasn't heard from you, I'm surprised.” Darcy's voice cut easily through the room, startling Clint enough that he almost fell from where he was hanging. “I'm going to assume you either haven't had time to talk with him or decided you don't care why he sent me to you.”

Glancing down, he offered her a touch of a scowl. “Are you following me?”

“Dude, does it look like I'm following you?” countered Darcy, gesturing to the tank top and sweat pants she was wearing. “I'm here to work out, same as you. It is a gym after all.”

She strode through the room as she spoke, approaching the human-shaped floor-mounted punching back he and Natasha used to practice their hand-to-hand. Well, when they weren't using each other. Sometimes, he wondered if they had a problem given their relationship seemed to be based on beating the crap out of each other.

“It's also almost midnight,” pointed out Clint with a scowl, resuming the crunches he'd been doing upside down. “Most people are asleep at midnight.”

Darcy just shrugged. “Maybe I can't sleep.”

“So you're gonna come work out?” challenged Clint. “That sounds like a load of bull.”

“Nervous energy,” explained Darcy as she executed a particularly nice series of roundhouse kicks to the side of the dummy. “Gotta work it out some how and that Xbox combat game wasn't doing it tonight.”

Both of Clint's eyebrows rose as he dropped back to the rest position again. “You're the one who keeps playing Street Fighter in the middle of the night?”

“That'd be me,” confirmed Darcy as she switched to moving through a series of punches and kicks. “You sound surprised.”

“I've been trying to find that culprit for a week,” growled Clint. “You keep beating my high scores. I thought it was Tony!”

Darcy scoffed, turning to look up at Clint. “Please, Tony sucks at that game. For all his mechanical brilliance, he can't figure out the exact configuration to execute the moves. I actually caught him fiddling with the kinect in an attempt to improve it's range.”

“Sounds like Tony,” agreed Clint with a scowl. “It can be buggy, though.”

She shrugged and spun suddenly to unleash another series of kicks and punches to her target. “I don't have much trouble, but I've logged a lot of hours with that thing too. There's not much to do in Norway, and going outside is kinda a bad idea.”

“It's not that bad,” argued Clint with a shrug.

“Then clearly you were in a different part of Norway, because the place we were averaged at -20 degress Fahrenheit during the day,” countered Darcy. “And I'm not exactly a trained super-spy who here.”

“That part I won't argue,” muttered Clint as he curled himself up using his stomach muscles to grab the bar over his head and slide his feet down so he was hanging upright again.

“Eh, wouldn't want to be,” replied Darcy, to Clint's surprise. He hadn't thought she'd heard him. “Super-spydom isn't as cool as everyone makes it out to be. It's actually a lot of blood, broken bones, and nearly dying. I'll pass.”

Clint dropped to the ground and spun to look at the woman who was still beating the crap out of her punching bag. “You've been talking to 'Tasha.” He had to admit, he felt a little unhappy about that. Fury wanted her to be some kind of strange therapist to him, so why was she talking to his partner? Trying to weasel more information out about him?

“Phil, actually,” corrected Darcy. “He used to tell me what he could about ops and even brought home some reports on occasion for me to read. With all classified information blacked out, of course. It didn't sound fun.” She threw one last punch and turned to face him, cocking her hip slightly. “It's part of why I went into poly sci actually, the hope that maybe someday people like you, Agent Romanov, and Phil wouldn't have to do as much dirty work.”

“That's a dream,” snorted Clint. “People don't work like that; they're always out for blood.”

“Not gonna disagree,” stated Darcy with a shrug. “That's why I'm applying for law school. Way I see it, international law is probably the closest I can get to making a difference. Well, without just nuking the hell out of everything that is.”

Clint shrugged. “The Council tried to do that during the whole 'Battle of New York' thing, but only targeted New York.”

“According to Steve, Hydra tried to do something similar back during World War II targeting major cities,” cited Darcy as she turned back to the upright punching bag. “Thank god the man has a martyr complex.”

“Yeah, world would be a little different now if he did,” agreed Clint, eyes watching as Darcy went through another series of exercises. “You know, you'll get better if you spar with someone.”

Darcy landed one last roundhouse and turned to face Clint, one eyebrow cocked. “I know. You volunteering?”

He shrugged a little, glancing at the clock. “Shouldn't you get back to bed?”

“I'm not sleeping again tonight,” dismissed Darcy, her flippant tone almost overshadowing a touch of fear that leaked into her voice. Almost. “You?”

“Figured I'd try to get a few hours,” replied Clint, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Shrugging, she moved to the mat and took up a starting position. “Maybe another time then. Don't want to keep you from your beauty rest.”

Clint stood there a moment longer, watching her go through a series of moves that he guessed were basic karate or self-defense mixed with something else. “So what, no questions this time?”

Darcy dropped her foot to the mat and pulled the other one up beside it, turning to face him. “Tonight's not good for me. Plus, you look like hell. And I'm willing to guess I'm not the only one suffering from nightmare-based insomnia tonight. Either way, it's not a good time to start discussing what essentially qualifies as mind rape.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” grumbled Clint with a bit of a wince. He hadn't exactly thought about what happened to him like that, but it was an apt description. Which made the whole thing worse in the end.

“It's pretty much the truth though,” reminded Darcy, her voice going soft. “I know you don't want to hear that, but it's true. And here's the thing: something like that? It ends. And when it ends, it leaves scars behind burned deeper than any caused by a physical injury.” 

Sighing, her eyes dropped to the back wall of the room. “Mind control, emotional abuse, mental torture, they're all more damaging than physical abuse or force could ever be because the person who's suffering from it doesn't know if it's their fault or their abusers fault. If their actions reflect any kind of a deeper urge on their end or if it's all on the person who hurt them.” 

Looking up again, she met his eyes pointedly. That sense that she was probing his mind came back full-force. “And perhaps worst of all: it's hard to fight back against, sometimes even impossible, because you don't always realize when it's happening until everything is done. Then, you don't know why any of it happened. Or if everything you did was your fault or your abusers.” 

She took a deep breath, looking away again. This time, her eyes fell on the punching bag she was using before. “It's a hard thing to over-come, especially when you can't trust yourself to actually be yourself and not someone else's doll.” Her eyes rose to his again, determined and filled with belief in him for one reason or another; the emotion almost managed to hide the pain, knowledge, and hint of memory which hovered at the edge. “It can be done, however, there's always a time and a place for it. And a night when you've suffered a nightmare related to your mind-control isn't it. Just, trust me on that.”

Clint stared at her for a moment, actually taking the time to look at her rather than just see there was someone there. He'd known she was young and that she was originally Foster's intern (now apparently Pepper's). What he wasn't sure anyone knew was that she'd already aged beyond her years. Before there had been hints of it in her tone, little clues in her comments. Statements like 'I've never been in your exact position but I can understand' held more truth coming from her than most witness accounts and classified government reports. Then there was the fact that Phil had apparently paid special attention to her, in the non-perverted way from the sounds of it. And Fury, too. Having their attention meant there was something special about her. And her words just now- her description of the thoughts that had been running through his head since they'd taken Loki down- spoke volumes about her life. Her experience. Somehow, someone had fucked with her in a way similar to how Loki had fucked with him.

“So you don't want to talk about me tonight,” summarized Clint, careful to maintain eye contact with her. “Then tell me about yourself.”

For a moment, she looked torn between bolting and accepting his offer. If what she'd faced was anything like what he had though, he couldn't blame her. So far, she hadn't pressed him for any information; all she'd done was talk with him a bit here and there. It was different from how every shrink and head doc he'd seen so far had handled him. Again, it spoke to her having a similar experience.

“Quid pour quo,” offered Darcy finally, crossing her arms over her stomach. “I'm here to help you, not burden you with my own story. But, if you'll feel more comfortable, I'll show you my scars if you show me your cuts and bruises.”

It was Clint's turn to pause as he considered her words. He had to admit, even having just meet Darcy, she made him want to talk a little. Not tell her everything of course, but get some of it off his chest. Talk about some of the things he didn't think even Natasha could understand. Some of the weight that was constantly pressing on his chest. “When I say stop, we stop.”

“When either of us says stop, we stop,” corrected Darcy. “The pain doesn't disappear, it just eases with time.”

“Deal,” agreed Clint, offering his hand to her.

She eyed the appendage for a moment, like she wasn't sure she wanted to touch him or not. It was the same reluctance he'd seen others show when dealing with him and he almost withdrew his hand completely. Maybe she was more scared of him than he thought. Those concerns were obliterated a second later though, when her palm came into contact with his, fingers wrapping uncertainly around his hand as if she wasn't used to touching other people in any context. Even if she was afraid of him, even a little, she was willing to push through it and give him a chance. “Deal.”

Clint nodded and withdrew his hand quickly. If she didn't want to touch him, he wasn't going to prolong the contact. “I'm going to assume you still don't want to start tonight.”

“No,” confirmed Darcy. “Tomorrow. If you want, we can start tomorrow.”

His feet shuffled slightly as he shifted his weight, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “What time do you want to meet?”

Darcy shrugged, tucking her hand back across her torso. “I'll come find you at some point .”

“No prearranged time?” asked Clint, brow furrowing. He knew she wasn't a therapist or shrink, but didn't she at least feel the need to schedule this stuff?

“No point,” explained Darcy. “Prearranged times get people in the habit of thinking they can only talk about things or only need to talk about them during a set period of time. The reality is that the scars left from mind-control can effect anyone at any time and they need to feel comfortable with that fact. More importantly, they need to be comfortable talking with someone about what happened whenever they feel the need to talk. I'm not a shrink and I won't pretend I am one. I'm definitely not going to do things I know won't help.”

Clint blinked at her for a moment, not sure what to make of her explanation. Then, he nodded slowly and grabbed his towel from where he'd thrown it earlier. “I guess I'll see you sometime tomorrow then.”

“Today,” corrected Darcy, glancing at the clock. “It's past midnight. But yeah, you'll see me eventually.”

“Right,” muttered Clint. “Night then.”

“Night,” replied Darcy, turning back to the mat and retaking the starting position from earlier. Clint took a moment longer to look at her before turning to exit the gym. 

He couldn't believe he'd actually agreed to talk with her, but he would say this: if there was anyone who had a snowballs chance of understanding what he'd been through, it was the girl he'd just left practicing martial arts in the gym at 1:00 am. And if she could help fix his head, actually help him get it back on straight, it was maybe worth trying.


	3. Chapter 3

“I'd think you wouldn't enjoy movies involving that many explosions, having been exposed to actual battle and all,” commented Darcy as she wondered into the room

 

Clint shot up on the couch, blinking at her over the back. Apparently, he'd crashed out during the movie. “You need a bell.”

 

She just shrugged and tossed him a carefree smile. “People say that about Phil, too.” Her smile fell with her words, voice dropping to almost a whisper near the end. For a moment, she paused near the back of the couch, throat visibly constricting as she gulped. “I mean, said. They said he needed a bell.”

 

At the mention of his former boss, Clint winced. Guilt assaulted his mind immediately, bile rising in the back of his throat. Still, the look on Darcy's face somehow made it easier to pull himself together. “Yeah, we all thought he needed one. Even got him a human-sized cat collar with a bell as a joke.”

 

A touch of a smile pulled at Darcy's lips, a chuckle falling from her lips. “So you guys were to blame for that, huh? I knew he was lying when he said he needed it for a mission once.”

 

Clint paused, considering her words and everything else he knew about her so far. He'd already guessed there was some kind of connection between her and Phil, and that the connection probably wasn't work related. Phil never had talked much about his home life, but Clint couldn't recall him having a family either. “What was your connection with him, anyway?”

 

“Phil saved my life,” replied Darcy simply before flopping down sideways into a chair. “So, ready to talk?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” stuttered Clint a little, head spinning with the sudden topic change. Though he couldn't be sure, that was probably her way of saying 'stop' without saying it.

 

Reaching forward, he grabbed the remote to flip off the movie, but Darcy stopped him before he could. “Leave it on.” At his raised eyebrow, she explained. “The conversation will come and go. We'll want something on to fill the silence, otherwise it'll get overwhelming.”

 

Clint nodded, turning down the volume instead and laying back on the couch, head next to the chair she was sitting in. “You have the weirdest therapy methods.”

 

“I wouldn't call them 'therapy methods',” corrected Darcy, “more like 'homegrown methods of talking about difficult shit'.”

 

“Sounds better than 'therapy methods',” muttered Clint with a sigh. “So, what, you just want me to start talking about what happened?”

 

Darcy shook her head, rolling it so she could look at him. “Not unless you absolutely want to. Not yet, anyway.”

 

Both of Clint's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Without much thought, he rolled over so he was on his stomach rather than his back, staring at the woman lounging next to him. “Seriously?”

 

“No one _wants_ to relive something like that,” pointed out Darcy. “I figured we'd start with going through what you've been afraid you're gonna do since Mr. I-Wanna-Be-A-Billy-Goat's 'take over the world' stunt.”

 

“Okay, this definitely isn't SOP for any therapist,” stated Clint. “Where did you learn your methods from?”

 

Darcy's eyes darted back to the TV, her voice dropping as she explained. “Phil. He's the one who helped me after everything.”

 

Clint gulped a little, nodding once sharply. “That sounds like him.”

 

“Yeah,” whispered Darcy. “He always knew when to push and when to back off.”

 

His eyes slid back to the TV screen and, for a few minutes, neither on said a word. Of course, he was the first to break the silence. “You two were close, weren't you?”

 

Darcy nodded, eyes also locked on the screen. “After he and Fury rescued me, I didn't have anywhere to go. So, he let me move in with him.”

 

“That sounds like Phil,” muttered Clint with a touch of a smile. “How old were you?”

 

“Ten,” replied Darcy quietly.

 

Clint felt his jaw hanging open a little; it wasn't exactly what he expected. He'd figured she'd say sixteen or seventeen. Maybe fifteen. But ten? That meant that she would have been living with Phil for almost eight years. And ten...ten was way too young to have to go through anything like what he had. “Shit.”

 

“Yeah,” muttered Darcy, rolling her head back to look at him. “What are you afraid you're going to do?”

 

The question was somewhat out of nowhere, but he recognized the subject change for what it was: her way of saying 'stop'. Besides, it _was_ what they'd been originally discussing. For a moment, he fell silent and just let his mind try to sort through everything. Her question was a lot more specific than he'd expected, which made it easier to answer. “Hurt someone again. Not someone who deserves it, but someone who doesn't. A friend or fellow Agent.”

 

“Someone like Agent Romanov,” summarized Darcy knowingly. She offered him a touch of a smile, soft and reassuring. “It's scary to think about potentially hurting someone you care for.”

 

“Especially after I hurt so may people,” muttered Clint, his voice trailing off a bit as a car went flying off a cliff with the protagonist rolling out just in time. “I don't wanna do that again, but I'm afraid I will.”

 

From the corner of his eye, he could see Darcy nod in response to his statement. “Loki doesn't have any control over you anymore.”

 

Clint snorted. “I'm not sure about that one.”

 

“Why?” asked Darcy, her eyes lacking any judgment, hatred, or anger. All he could see was understanding and a calm curiosity.

 

Well, in for a penny, in for a dollar. Or was it a pound? He never did understand British turns of phrase. “I can hear his voice sometimes, whispering in the back of my mind. Calling me useless, pitiful, murderer.”

 

Darcy's brow furrowed deeply for a moment. He just used it as a chance to watch her mind work. Her face was far more expressive than she probably even knew it could be and he was starting to find the way it changed interesting. When she did speak, her voice was uncertain and a touch fearful. “Clint, did- did anyone in your family abuse you?”

 

Okay, that wasn't what he was expecting her to ask. Or even the conclusion he expected her to draw (no matter how true it was). The mind-reader theory was becoming more and more likely with each meeting. “Uh, yeah. Long- long time ago.”

 

Slowly, Darcy nodded, her eyes sliding shut a little. “Mind telling me who?”

 

“My dad,” replied Clint, growling a little. “Fucking drunken bastard.”

 

Darcy winced, her body tensing up at his harsh tone. “I'm starting to see why Phil thought we'd connect.” Sighing, she took a deep breath. When her eyes opened again, her blue orbs were filled with understanding. “You probably won't believe me when I say this, but it's not Loki's voice you're hearing; it's your fathers.”

 

“No,” objected Clint, shaking his head firmly. “I know that bastard's voice anywhere.”

 

“It's Loki's voice, but your father's words,” explained Darcy. “It's your father that's speaking, even if it's not his voice you're hearing. Your mind lumped them together, meshed your memories of both into one person. They both did terrible things to you, took away your power to defend yourself in different ways. It's the same act though, no matter how different the methods. So your mind linked them together as one person, one monster.”

 

For a moment, he just let her words sink in. Let his mind process everything she said. He agreed the words were his father's; he'd heard them too often as a child. But the idea that his mind had compressed his memories of Loki and his father into one person, one voice that haunted his mind...had that voice been there all along? If what she was saying was true, that voice should have been there from the beginning.

 

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember if his father's taunting words had always hung at the edge of his mind like that. And found it was true; every time he failed, missed a target or lost a trail. Every time he failed at his job or in the circus, his father's voice had mocked him from some corner of his mind. A voice that had disappeared after Loki took control of his body. Disappeared, only to be replaced by that of Thor's bastard brother. The words were the same, the voice was just different. She was right.

 

“You're right.” He couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice, and he didn't bother to try. She'd figured it out; he wasn't going to pretend like he wasn't surprised about that. “It's not Loki at all.”

 

Darcy nodded gently, eyes returning to the TV. For a long time, they didn't say a word. People ran across the screen in chaos, fire and explosions destroying the city painted in pixels before them. When the silence was broken again, it was Darcy that broke it. “Loki doesn't have any more control over you; his influence is long gone. Even the traces of it have vanished. He can't make you do anything anymore.”

 

“It doesn't feel that way,” muttered Clint, lifting his eyes back to the woman he was starting to wonder more and more about. “It feels like he's still there.”

 

“You're expecting him to be there,” explained Darcy gently, her eyes meeting his again. “He's not, though. Everyone acts like he is, and that's not helping anything, but I promise you, he's gone.”

 

Clint felt his temper rising a little, glaring slightly at Darcy. Of course, he knew she was only trying to help him, but she was ignoring what the man had done to him. If Loki could take control of him like that, who could say that he was completely free of the influence? “And how do you know? Are you an expert in alien mind control techniques?”

 

One of Darcy's eyebrows rose in response, shooting him a 'really?' look. “I don't think I'd want to be the person who had that job title.” The snark helped a little, breaking the tension that built through their conversation. “And no, I'm not. But Phil explained what happened and I saw what he did on the tapes. It's not hard to figure out how he took control of your body. And I can tell you right now, there's no trace of it left. His scepter left physical evidence of it's actions; that evidence is gone.”

 

“He took control of my mind,” growled Clint, rolling to his feet angrily. He was carefully not to stand over her though; not to crowd her. No amount of anger could make him that big of a bastard. She wasn't the enemy here, and he knew it even if his mouth didn't seem to. “He got inside my head and played with things. And you expect me to believe that just because my eyes aren't freaking glowing any more, somehow I'm free and not a danger to my teammates?”  
  


Darcy sighed, flipping her legs backwards over the chair and landing on her feet. Straightening, she locked eyes with Clint. With both of them standing, it evened the playing field between them. “There were more physical signs besides just the glowing eyes. You're free from his influence, what you need to free yourself from is your doubt and guilt. Those are more sturdy chains than any magic could ever produce.” Turning, she waved at him as she headed for the door. “Get some sleep. We'll talk again some other time.”

 

Once she was out of sight, Clint collapsed on the couch. Without the adrenaline, the anger, guilt flooded his system. Guilt and gratitude. Guilt that he'd gotten angry with her when all she was trying to do was help and gratitude for the fact that she seemed to understand; that she knew when to stop pushing a subject. When to postpone their conversations and give him a break. It wasn't like with the S.H.I.E.L.D shrinks at all, the ones who pushed him until he snapped. And for that, he was beyond grateful.

 

“Next time,” he muttered, staring up at the ceiling. “Next time, I won't get mad.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

“I heard you've been associating with Jane's former assistant,” commented Natasha as she wondered into the kitchen. “Care to explain?”

 

Clint looked up from the coffee maker, one eyebrow rising in question at his partner. “Fury wants her to help he though some shit.”

 

It was Natasha's turn to raise one eyebrow at him, the elegant curve capable of catching anyone's attention. “Why her?”

 

“Apparently it was Coulson's idea,” replied Clint quietly, his attention returning to the coffee maker. “He thought she could help me for some reason.”

 

Natasha hummed a little and he could feel her eyes boring into his. “Don't upset her like that again.”

 

“Huh?” asked Clint, turning back towards his partner. “What are you talking-”

 

“We invited Darcy to come shopping with us yesterday,” cut in Natasha, angry gaze leveling at him, “but she turned us down. She was upset. Pepper checked the security feed; we saw you shout at her. Don't do it again.”

 

Clint's shoulders sagged a little in relief. Natasha thought it was something that he'd said to Darcy that upset her, a fact he knew was false. It was still his fault of course, but there wasn't much he could do about it unless he told Darcy to stop trying to help him. And Fury wouldn't let that happen. “It wasn't that, Tasha. She...helping me is dragging up some of her own demons. It's the content of our discussions, not anything I said to her, that upset her.”

 

Natasha's brow rose in disbelief. “And what, pray tell, is the content of your conversations?”

 

“What happened when I was under Loki's control,” replied Clint, voice surprisingly level. Talking with Darcy must really be helping more than he thought it would. “She's helping me through the after effects.”

 

“Why?”

 

Jane's voice startled Clint, his eyes cutting to the doorway just behind Natasha. To his surprise, both Jane and Pepper were standing there. Based on the look Jane was giving him, she'd heard most of the conversation. Pepper, on the other hand, looked less surprised and more worried.

 

“Does it have something to do with why Phil raised her?” asked Pepper, surprising everyone. Natasha and Jane both turned to stare at the CEO, who just shrugged a little. “Phil approached me after the incident with Thor and asked if I needed an intern. I told him we were always looking for interns, but Tony wouldn't work with anyone. He handed me Darcy's resume and said 'I don't mean in your technical department. My adopted daughter recently got mixed up in something I'd rather keep her away from. I was hoping you might have an opening on your staff that would be more in line with her skills'.” Stepping into the room, Pepper headed for the refrigerator. “She was perfect for our PR department and I fully intend to make her my assistant as soon as Fury gives her back.”

 

Natasha's eyebrow rose in surprise. “You didn't ask why he took her to begin with?”

 

“Phil is the one who came and got her,” explained Pepper. “I wasn't going to ask why he needed his daughter back. I assumed it had to do with whatever Tony was getting mixed up in.”

 

“He sent her with me to Norway,” stated Jane, clearly in shock. “Why didn't she tell me Agent Coulson was her father?”

 

“She probably assumed you'd assume Agent was having her spy for him,” cut in Tony as he wondered into the kitchen. “Least, that's what I'd assume.”

 

“That's what you did assume when I hired her,” pointed out Pepper. “Remember?”

 

Jane shook her head, groaning in frustration. “I can't believe Darcy didn't tell me Coulson was her father.”

 

“Adoptive father,” reminded Natasha. “And Stark's perspective is a valid one. However,” turning, she leveled her 'you will tell me what I want to know now or face my wrath' at Clint, “I'm more curious as to how she came to be adopted by Coulson.”

 

Clint just shrugged. “I don't know; she hasn't told me.” Pausing, he locked eyes with Natasha, returning her look with his 'I'm not telling you jack' one. “Besides, our conversations might not be protected legally, but I'm not telling you anything she says in confidence. Her secrets are hers to tell.”

 

“Who's got secrets?” asked Darcy curiously as she walked into the room. “And why are we exchanging secrets about other people?”

 

“We aren't,” replied Natasha, turning interested eyes on Darcy. Behind the former lab intern, Steve, Bruce, and Thor entered the kitchen. “We're wondering about what secrets you're keeping, Darcy.”

 

Both of Darcy's eyebrows shot up. “My secrets?”

 

“Secrets?” repeated Steve, brow furrowing. “What secrets?”

 

“Secrets can be dangerous,” commented Bruce mildly, heading for the stove and kettle he kept there.

 

Thor's eyes widened slightly as he turned towards Darcy. “Lady Darcy, are you in trouble? Do we need to act on your behalf in a matter?”

 

“Dude, seriously?” asked Darcy, cocking an eyebrow at Thor. “How did you get from 'secrets' to 'acting on the behalf of another'? Actually,” one of her hands came up to halt Thor's response, “don't answer that. And what makes anyone think I'm keeping secrets?”

 

“Well, you certainly don't have any background that would allow you to assist Clint with his various issues that I'm aware of,” countered Natasha. “And I don't see Fury asking you to help Clint unless he thought you could. So, I'm assuming that you're keeping something from us.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Darcy moved to stand next to Clint, fishing a coffee cup from the cupboard. “A) Phil is the one who volunteered me to help Clint, not Fury. Fury thought it was a bad idea to get a civilian mixed up with S.H.I.E.L.D. business. B) I'm not hiding anything, I'm just not volunteering the information either. And yes, there is a difference, as Phil taught me.”

 

Clint looked at Darcy as she said the last bit, noting the way her voice fluctuated a bit. “He was really important to you, wasn't he?”  
  


“Well, duh,” replied Darcy as she looked up at Clint. “The man adopted me. He actually _chose_ to be my father. It means a lot.”

 

Nodding, Clint glanced at the others, debating if he should ask what he wanted to or not. Her words resounded heavily with him, and he suspected she'd revealed one more piece of the puzzle. At least, to him. What he wasn't sure about was how much she wanted to reveal to the others. Giving clues that someone who'd been through the same thing could pick up on was one thing, admitting it to other people was another.

 

He was still debating if he should ask or not when she spoke again. “Just ask, Clint.” At his startled expression, she explained. “Dude, you think so loud the whole room can hear you.”

 

“You sure you're not a mind reader?” teased Clint, a touch of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

 

“Positive,” replied Darcy. “Now ask, before I kick your ass.”

 

Clint really did smile at that. “You wish you could.”

 

“I know I could,” countered Darcy. “Phil taught me how to. Now, ask.”  
  


Sighing, Clint grabbed a cup as well, pouring the now-finished coffee into Darcy's cup. “Fine. Darce, were you, uh, abused?”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy. Her voice was casual, but he could hear that it was forced. The rather loud gasps that came from Jane and Thor along with the sound of Pepper's water bottle hitting the ground didn't help any. “My birth parents were real bastards like that.”

 

Clint felt the grip he had on the coffee carafe tighten. “Both of them?”

 

Darcy shrugged. “Mostly it was Andrew, but Meredith didn't exactly try to protect me, either.”

 

“Oh Darcy...” whispered Jane, the astrophysicist hurrying to hug her former intern. “Darce, why didn't you say anything before?”

 

“Because it's in the past?” offered Darcy, squeaking slightly as Jane tightened her hold.

 

“Past or not, such offenses can not be left unpunished!” exclaimed Thor angrily, one arm shooting into the air with Mjolnir gripped tightly in his fist. “We shall seek out those who birthed you and teach them such actions will not go unpunished!”

 

“Um, they already learned that the hard way,” informed Darcy quietly, pushing at Jane until the astrophysicist released her.

 

Natasha nodded, reaching out to lower Thor's arm. Or, well, try to. “She's right, Thor. Coulson isn't- wasn't- one to leave something like abuse unpunished.”

 

Clint glanced at Darcy, noting the way she winced slightly. Without much though, he reached out and carefully lay a hand on her back. She jumped a little, but otherwise didn't move his hand from it's place. “'Tasha's right. If they aren't rotting in a S.H.I.E.L.D jail somewhere, they're probably in some shit-hole barely getting by.”

 

“Actually, they're dead,” informed Darcy. Her voice was solid, but he could feel her body shaking under his hand. “So, yeah. Non-issue.”  
  


Thor lowered Mjolnir slowly with Natasha still hanging slightly off his arm. “At least do met me the justice of knowing they suffered greatly then.”

 

“You don't know the half of it,” muttered Darcy. Her hands were visibly shaking a little at this point, making Clint worried she might spill her coffee.

 

“Darcy?” asked Jane gently, apparently having picked up on the way the brunette was shaking. “What happened?”

 

For a moment, Darcy fell silent. Her eyes dropped to the coffee cradled between her hands. Licking her lips, she began to explain in a very quiet voice. “I killed them one night. Someone- someone convinced me to do it and I did.” Gulping slightly, she took a deep breath before continuing. “It wasn't exactly a hard thing to do, convince me I mean.” Shaking her head, she took a moment to breath before continuing. “But, Phil helped me put it in the past. That's where I've kept it ever since.”

 

Clint wrapped his arm tighter around Darcy, sensing she hadn't been 'convinced' so much as brain-washed into doing it. And he knew from experience that it wasn't hard to brain-wash a kid who was being abused. There wasn't much you could say to something like that either, another thing Clint knew from experience. So he didn't say anything, just tightened his arm a little more.

 

“You- you killed your parents?” whispered Jane, her eyes gazing at Darcy in shock.

 

“It sounds as if they deserved it,” remarked Natasha. Pepper nodded in agreement. Steve looked like he wanted to object, but couldn't find something to object to. Tony's expression was unreadable, but Clint hadn't expected much more. The man had faced horror at the hands of terrorists; he could probably imagine what it was like to be abused as a child.

 

“It wasn't- it wasn't sexual right?” asked Jane, her voice still horrified. It was the type of horror related to knowing her friend had been tortured as a child and not for what Darcy had done in retaliation.

 

Darcy laughed, voice dry. “No, never. Andrew wouldn't touch me unless it was to hit me. It was the one saving grace.”

 

“It doesn't matter what kind of abuse it was,” cut in Clint quickly. He could feel the tension thrumming under Darcy's skin and he wasn't going to watch everyone else push her for answers when she wanted to clearly run. She was helping him, the least he could do is return the favor. “Abuse is abuse and it can't be soothed or justified.”

 

“We weren't suggesting otherwise, Clint,” soothed Natasha. He could see from her expression she knew he was connecting with Darcy's history on a personal level. “We're just curious, is all. No one is demanding answers.”

 

Reaching out, Darcy carefully grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “It's alright, Clint. Like I said, I don't have secrets.”

 

“But you are tensing up,” murmured Clint gently. “This shit isn't easy to talk about.”

 

“No,” agreed Darcy. “It's not, and the horror never goes away. But it's also in the past for me. Pretty far in the past, for that matter. Really, I'm okay.”

 

Steve's brow furrowed in concern. “Darcy, when did all of this happen?”

 

Darcy sighed, leaning her head carefully on Clint's shoulder. “I don't remember when the abuse started. It was definitely happening by the time I was eight though. I killed my parents when I was ten, which was the same time that Fury and Phil rescued me.” She sniffed a little, taking a sip of her coffee. “I'm still surprised they didn't throw me in jail.”

 

“You didn't deserve to be imprisoned,” reasoned Tony mildly, leaning against the island counter. “No one would have convicted you.”

 

“You didn't see what I did to them,” whispered Darcy, a touch of horror leaking into her voice.

 

Clint shook his head, squeezing her shoulder. “Doesn't matter. No parent should ever hurt their kid. Whatever they got, they deserved it and probably more.”

 

“It doesn't matter anyway,” stated Darcy firmly, though her voice was a touch watery. “I swore I'd never do anything like that again.”

 

Jane leaned heavily on the counter, one hand rising to her forehead. “I can't believe...”

 

“You were ten when this happened?” repeated Steve, horror clearly painted across his face. “That's...”

 

“Horrifying,” offered Bruce. “Horrifying seems apt.”

 

Darcy shrugged, curling in a little on herself. “It happened. Doesn't matter if it was horrifying or not.”

 

“She's right,” broke in Pepper. “What's in the past should remain there.”

 

Thor nodded once, firmly. His silence through most of the discussion was unnerving, but Clint didn't imagine the alien god had much of a point of reference for dealing with these things. “Then let us go to the room of living to partake in activities to dispel such memories of terror.”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” agreed Tony, grabbing Bruce's arm and pulling him out of the room. “I think I've got something with explosions in it that might be worth playing.”

 

“Tony,” groaned Steve as he followed the mad genius out of the room. “We're trying _not_ to aggravate Dr. Banner...”

 

Pepper shook her head, heading for the door as well. “I'd better make sure Tony doesn't destroy the tower again.”

 

“Come fair Jane, let us partake in the playing of war games on the screen you call a television!” exclaimed Thor as he practically swept a still-dazed Jane off the ground and carried her from the room.

 

Natasha chuckled faintly at the antics of the others before turning back to Darcy and Clint. “No one will be surprised if neither of you appear. In fact, it's expected.” With that, she slipped out of the room to follow the others. Likely with the intention of collecting blackmail.

 

Clint listened to her walk away, arm still wrapped around Darcy. When Natasha's footsteps became over-whelmed by the sounds of shouting from the others, he turned his attention on Darcy. “So, want to collect on that rain check for a sparring match?”

 

“Gladly,” replied Darcy, abandoning her coffee in favor of a bottle of water. “Meet you in the gym in ten.”

 


	5. Sometimes It's Best to Punch Something While Talking About Your Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Sorry guys, I know this chapter doesn't really deal any more with Clint's issues but please bear with me. There were a few more things I just wanted to get out there between Darcy and Clint, in part to give Clint some understanding of where Darcy was coming from and in part to give him more reason to trust her. And believe me, trust is a big part of working through these kinds of issues. Also, please note, I have NO experience with child abuse, so if that part is off, again I apologize.
> 
> Please note, I'm writing this based on my own experience having conversations about abuse, so if the conversation doesn't seem right, I'm sorry. It'll seem like Darcy is sharing a lot in this, but in my experience once you start talking about it, it's easier to just keep going. And then you sleep and it becomes hard to talk about again. Again, this is all based on personal experience. Sorry if this seems off or offensive to anyone.

Darcy was already in the gym when Clint arrived ten minutes later. Standing in the doorway, he took a moment to just watch her move as she stretched out her muscles. Even though he'd spent some time with her, he'd never paid much attention to what she looked like, including the other night in the gym. Their conversations always put him so far on edge, he never had the time. Which, in hind sight, was a shame because she really was pretty. Even with her hair tied up, clad in S.H.I.E.L.D. sweatpants that had seen better days and a tank in about the same condition, she was pretty.

 

“You ready to spar?” called Darcy from the mat, body relaxed. Her feet were bare, which wasn't a surprise to Clint. It was easier to move and you were less likely to do serious harm to your partner. That was only ideal in the field, when serious harm was required.

 

“You know it,” confirmed Clint, removing his own shoes and moving easily onto the mat. He took a moment to stretch out as well, eyes still pinned on the woman in front of him. “What kind of martial arts do you use?”

 

Darcy shrugged. “I don't really know. Phil usually just called it 'hurting someone without killing them'. I've always assumed it was a mix meant to give the person attacked a chance to get away.”

 

Clint nodded slowly, rolling his shoulders and neck. “I think I remember Phil using something like that. Not sure if it's S.H.I.E.L.D standard or not, but it's effective.”

 

“Trust me, I know,” assured Darcy as she moved to take a stance on the mat and started going through several warm-up exercises. “I've seen the video from the gas station, too.”

 

“He was a pretty scary man,” agreed Clint quietly. Finishing his stretches, he turned to Darcy. “Ready to start?”

 

Giving the air one last kick, she turned towards Clint and nodded. “Don't be too nice. I promise, I don't break easily.”

 

“Never assumed you did,” assured Clint, shrugging slightly. “I figure anyone who can tase a god can take care of themselves.”

 

Darcy grinned. “That I can.”

 

Smiling, Clint took up a stance across from Darcy. “Ready?”

 

“Let's do this,” replied Darcy, dropping into her own stance.

 

For a minute, neither one of them moved. They just stood there, examining each other. Knowing her methods were defensive, Clint started it with a simple punch.

 

Even knowing Darcy could probably kick most people's ass, he was all too aware that he wasn't most people and hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do. He was surprised she was even willing to spar with him. Even Natasha exhibited caution when it came to that since the Loki incident. But here was Darcy, jumping right into a sparring match with him without any fear for her safety.

 

Darcy easily caught his punch, guiding it away from her body and throwing her own at him in retaliation. He ducked the strike, using his momentum to roll behind her. Which she countered by using her own momentum to spin so she was facing him again in a ready stance by the time he came up.

 

“Not bad,” commented Clint, eying her stance. She'd fallen back into a perfectly balanced stance, meaning it was probably second nature. He'd guessed she'd been training for years when he was watching her in the gym the other night, but being able to beat up a punching dummy and being able to actually execute the moves in a fight were two very different things. “How long?”

 

“Several years,” replied Darcy, suddenly executing a round-house kick aimed at his right knee.

 

He blocked the move effortlessly, catching her leg and attempting to pull her off balance. She shifted her weight suddenly, dropping to the ground in a way that forced him to release her unless he wanted to get pulled down as well. Once on the ground, she rolled to the side and managed to kick the back of his knee. The move caused his knee to buckle and sent him to the ground with her.

 

“It shows,” informed Clint, rolling away from her grasp.

 

She rolled easily to her feet, making sure he couldn't knock her off balance in the process. “Phil always wanted to make sure I could defend myself if I needed to.”

 

Clint nodded and threw another punch at her, which she dodged and returned. “Good move.”

 

For several moments, they continued to trade blows and kicks. The only sounds in the gym were their grunts and breathing. Clint had to admit, she was good. Like, probationary agent good. He guessed she'd probably never used her skills in an actual fight, though he might be very wrong about that.

 

Their sparring ended rather suddenly when Darcy threw a punch which Clint caught and used to flip her onto the mats. Coughing slightly, she blinked up at him in surprise for a moment before offing him a smile. He smiled back, really smiled for what felt like the first time in ages, and held his hand out in offering. Her own grasped his, hoisting herself up.

 

“Nice move,” commented Darcy, leaning forward a little to catch her breath.

 

Clint shrugged. “I should say the same to you. You're good.”

 

“Like I said, Phil taught me well.” Her words were a bit shaky, but Clint couldn't tell if that was from being winded or an emotional reaction to her own memories. Straightening, she stretched her back carefully. “Feel like talking a little?”

 

“What do you mean?” asked Clint wearily, smile falling. Of course, he knew what she meant; the only reason she'd ask is if she wanted to discuss what happened to him. Which was a surprise, given how much of her own history had been laid on the table maybe half an hour before. Then again, it could be a coping tactic too: focus on his problems so she wouldn't have to face her own at the moment.

 

The look she gave him clearly said that she knew he knew what she was talking about. He wasn't in the least bit surprised she didn't fall for the bullshit either. “Quid pour quo, remember? You've heard my quid, so I was wondering if you'd mind giving up some quo.”

 

He shrugged slightly, stretching out his own muscles to keep them from cooling down. “I'm not gonna lie, after hearing your story earlier, mine feels a little...I don't know, a little petty I guess.”

 

'Petty' wasn't the right word, and he knew it, but he couldn't think of a better word to explain it. She'd been abused for at least two years, probably longer based on his personal experience with the subject, then brain washed by some guy at the age of ten and was responsible for killing her own parents. Yeah, he'd done a lot of stuff he hadn't wanted to and killed a lot of people under Loki, but he was also a trained operative. Blood wasn't new to him. And he'd definitely never directly killed anyone like his own parents. The closest he'd come was 'Tasha and she'd managed to kick his ass, as always. What he'd been through sucked and he felt like he couldn't trust himself, but he wasn't a ten year old kid either. And he definitely hadn't been manipulated mentally by Loki like she would have been by her own captor. He'd seen the effects of that kind of brain washing on Natasha and he couldn't image having to untangle those knots at the age of ten.

 

“How do you mean?” asked Darcy, brow furrowing. “What happened to me isn't anywhere near as bad as what happened to you.”

 

Clint sighed heavily, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “I guess...I guess after hearing what you said earlier, I realized what happened to me was less ambiguous than I thought. I mean, I know I did what I did because of Loki's phallic and over-compensating mind control stick. None of it was anything I wanted to do.”

 

“That's good to hear,” congratulated Darcy. “Now all you need to do is believe it. Because once you believe that, then you can start actually facing what happened.”

 

“Huh?” asked Clint. Wasn't that what she was supposed to be doing? Helping him face everything he'd done? Hell, wasn't that what he'd been doing this whole time? “I don't understanding.”

 

Sighing, Darcy retook her stance and motioned for him to do the same. “There's two parts to all of this: coming to terms with what happened and understanding where you stand with everything that happened. But you can't come to terms with anything until you stop blaming yourself.”

 

Dropping into his own stance again, Clint groaned. “So basically, all I've done is said 'this isn't my fault'.”  
  


“Pretty much,” confirmed Darcy. “Next step is actually believing it.”

 

“I said it though, doesn't that kind of imply I believe it?” argued Clint as he began to slowly circle the mat.

 

Darcy matched his steps, breaking stance to shake one of her hands in a 'kind of' motion. “Just because you can admit something sometimes, doesn't mean you always believe it. You might say 'none of this was my fault', but the what-if's are still there. There's still part of your brain saying you should have fought harder or that you should have realized what was happening sooner. That's still blaming yourself for what happened.”

 

Clint nodded slowly, carefully eying Darcy for some sign of her mood. “Did you go through that? The 'I should have's and 'what if's, I mean.”

 

“Big time,” admitted Darcy, throwing a kick aimed at his side rather suddenly. He blocked it easily with his left arm. “Don't compare our situations though, mine isn't as clear as yours was.”

 

One of Clint's eyebrows rose as he threw a punch that she blocked. “What do you mean?”

 

Darcy blew a bit of loose hair out of her eyes and tried to kick him again. “I'm still not sure to this day if some of what I did was actually my idea or my controller's. At least you know that what you did under Loki wasn't of your own volition.”

 

“I can't say that,” argued Clint, blocking her kick and aiming a punch at her left shoulder. She knocked his hand aside before it could reach it's target, nearly sending him off balance. “Loki asked me questions; he gave me objectives. And I completed them without his guidance. Without his prompting. I came up with strategies for him just like I would have for S.H.I.E.L.D. And in my world, that's being cooperative.”

 

“Yeah, but you didn't want to do that,” pointed out Darcy, throwing her own punch towards his stomach. He caught her wrist and twisted her into an arm lock. “You never _wanted_ to kill innocent people or attack S.H.I.E.L.D. I wanted to kill my parents some days. Hell, most days if I'm being honest.”

 

Twisting her arm suddenly, she managed to break the hold and bring a punch around in the tight space to connect with his side before moving away. Mild pain radiated from the point but nothing more, revealing that she was definitely pulling her punches. He'd suspected she would, especially given how much the training dummy had been shaking when she was using it a few nights before.

 

“No one can blame you for that though,” objected Clint as he straightened up, rubbing his side a little. “You were being threatened, abused. That's not something someone goes though without wanting to see the person hurting them dead.”

 

Darcy shook her head slowly, dropping her stance. “I talked to other kids like me, back when I was still trying to sort everything out. They-” she paused for a second, taking a shaky breath that was definitely rooted in emotion and not exercise this time. Gulping slightly, her eyes moved to the clock on the gym's back wall. “I couldn't figure out if it was my idea or his to kill my parents; couldn't even remember why I'd done it or what had happened. It was just a blank. And I thought: 'hey, why not talk to some other kids who've been through this and see what they were thinking; maybe I'll be able to figure things out then'. It didn't help though because, even after all that, I still didn't know who's idea it was. Didn't know if I was some kind of murderous psychopath or if it had been the guy controlling me all along.”

 

Taking a deep breath, she returned her gaze to him. Her eyes were open and a touch scared. Haunted. It made him shiver a little. Her eyes reminded him a bit of Natasha's when she'd had a nightmare. The difference here was that Darcy was actually _talking_ about what was bothering her rather than emptying twenty clips of ammo into paper targets on the range.

 

“You know who you are, Clint,” explained Darcy quietly. “You know where you stood in all of this. Nothing that you did was because you wanted to do it, and giving a guy who's using magic to control you strategies isn't willing participation. Hell, when the others wanted to go kick Loki's ass, you were one of the first people ready to board that shuttle. You knew what he'd done to you was wrong, that he'd forced you to do things you didn't want to, and you wanted to see him taken out for it. You wanted to kill him.” Again she paused, biting her lip this time but not looking away. “I didn't want to see the man who'd been manipulating me die. After the fact, I was apathetic about the whole thing. Completely numb. Didn't know what to make of the situation I was in. I'd never fought my controller, never even seen what he was doing as manipulation. His own twisted form of abuse.

 

“But for you, Loki took control of your body and _forced_ you to use your mind for his purposes. You knew where his influence ended and you wanted to see him pay. I'd bet you fought him every step of the way and you need to remember that when your conscience tries to tell you otherwise; when the voices of doubt in the back of your mind try to eat away at your sanity.” She paused again, taking a deep breath. “You didn't want any of those people dead and you know it. That's knowledge you need to hold on to and remind yourself of when your head tries to say otherwise. It'll help keep everything in perspective.”

 

Clint nodded slowly, staring at the woman in front of him in awe. How she'd managed to cut through the bullshit and tease out the truth, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Hell, he hadn't been able to piece that much together and it was his head she was shrinking. “Is that how you made it through?”

 

“Something like that,” confirmed Darcy, one hand reaching up to scratch at the back of her head roughly. It was a frustrated gesture Clint recognized as one of Phil's few twitches, one he'd never seen outside of the privacy of his deceased friend's office. “You need something, a grounding thought or notion of some kind, before you can really start to consider what happened to you. Once you start delving into events and memories, everything can become jumbled, including your understanding of what was happening at the time. So knowing where you stand now and understanding what was wrong with the situation before you start helps.”

 

“So, you think there's some hope my head might be fixable?” asked Clint, trying to joke a little in an attempt to break the heavy feel of the room. It wasn't easy, given how little he'd joked with anyone since Natasha had literally knocked his head back in order on the Helicarrier.

 

A touch of a smirk pulled at the corner of Darcy's lips, showing he'd at least had a little success. “From what Loki did, sure. Everything else is permanent damage though, sorry.”

 

“Damn,” replied Clint, snapping his fingers. “And here I was hoping there was some chance 'Tasha would stop trying to commit me.”

 

One of Darcy's eyebrows rose. “To a relationship?”

 

“Nope, mental asylum,” corrected Clint. “Something about having no sense of self-preservation.”

 

“Well, that's probably because you seem to think shooting nerf darts at her is a good idea,” pointed out Darcy. “And yes, I've seen the security footage. Phil used to bring it home and we'd watch the ridiculousness that is you messing with other agents.”

 

Both of Clint's eyebrows rose in surprise. “Seriously?”

 

“Yep,” confirmed Darcy, her smile turning sad from the memories. “He kept them a lot for nights when I had bad nightmares because they always made me laugh.”

 

“Sweet, I win!” exclaimed Clint suddenly, grin curling across his face.

 

Darcy blinked at him blankly. “You won what?”

 

“My bet with 'Tasha,” explained Clint, still grinning. “She bet me once that no one enjoyed my pranks and I told her at least one other person had to. This proves it.”

 

Groaning, Darcy shook her head. “God, you really are a dork!” Still, there was a genuine smile on her face and that stirred something inside Clint. Knowing that his antics had helped another person through their problems, or at least taken their mind off their issues, helped make the punishment he'd sustained due to his many, many pranks worth while. “So what was this bet for? Is there head-shaving involved?”

 

“No head-shaving,” replied Clint. “'Tasha likes her hair too much for that. We were betting for bragging rights.”

 

“Not even money? I'm disappointed,” teased Darcy. “I would have at least expected something like you having to wear women's underwear for a week or something interesting.”

 

Clint blanched a little. “No, I'm never doing that again.”

 

“The Czech mission didn't look _that_ bad,” dismissed Darcy. At Clint's raised eyebrow, she elaborated. “It's one of those mission reports I mentioned Phil bringing home.”

 

“And you remember that specific one because...” started Clint, looking at her expectantly.

 

Darcy smirked. “Because it involved you imitating a female prostitute. By the way, you make an ugly woman.”

 

“Hey! I thought I looked pretty good in that dress!” exclaimed Clint, voice a touch offended. “Especially given it wasn't much better than a potato sack.”

 

“Excuse me, that was _my_ dress,” growled Darcy, eyes narrowing in a way that made Clint very nervous.

 

Gulping slightly, he backed up quickly. Darcy had already made it onto his 'don't mess with too badly' list. Offending her choice in clothing wasn't something he wanted to do, ever. “Er, what I meant to say is that on _me_ it looked like a potato sack. I'm sure on you it'd be perfectly fine. Um, at least I'd image?”

 

The hard look Darcy was giving him broke as a smile cut across her face along with a series of giggles. Clint relaxed at the sound, scowling slightly at her. “That wasn't actually your dress, was it?”

 

Darcy snorted a little, shaking her head. “No, it kind of was. Phil got it for me as a present for my birthday except he got the wrong size. And it wasn't particularly attractive in the first place. When I told him all this, he just held it up and shrugged saying 'I'll just save it for a mission then. I'm sure Barton will look fine it in'.”

 

“Of course he would,” groaned Clint. He could see his former boss saving a too-big and ugly dress originally intended for his daughter for the sole purpose of torturing others. “And he'd never make 'Tasha wear it because she'd refuse.”

 

“That's because Agent Romanov is smart,” pointed out Darcy with a smile. Stretching her arms above her head, she yawned slightly and looked at the clock. It's almost eleven.”

 

“It's also a Friday night,” reminded Clint, eyes going to the clock as well. “Bars are probably open, wanna grab a drink?”

 

For a moment, he thought she might say no. The way her lips pursed in consideration and her head tilted slightly seemed to imply she was thinking about just going to bed. Then she shrugged and offered him a smile. “Sure, why not? We've both had a rough night. Where were you thinking?”

 

“Ever been to the pub on 3rd between E. 93rd and E. 94th?” asked Clint as he began to stretch out his muscles to keep any stiffness from setting in.

 

“Kinsale Tavern? I think Phil took me there when I turned 21,” admitted Darcy. “The bar tender was giving him dirty looks until I called him 'Dad'.”

 

“Probably Old Murry,” replied Clint. “He sees far too many dirty old men trying to pick up girls young enough to be their granddaughters and daughters.”

 

Darcy nodded, moving through her own stretches carefully. “That makes sense. I remember Phil got up to use the bathroom and some old guy came over and started flirting with me. The glare Phil gave him when he returned could have crumbled stone.”

 

“Hey, it's a father's job to be protective of his kid,” pointed out Clint soothingly. “Even if the kid is only his by adoption, any good father will try their hardest to protect and love their child.”

 

“Yeah, I figured that part out,” stated Darcy with a sad smile and sniffle. Standing up straight again, she started towards the doors to the gym, hiding her face. Her voice was a little wobbly as she spoke, but Clint couldn't tell if she was crying or not. “Meet in the lobby in fifteen minutes?”

 

“Yep, sounds good,” agreed Clint, watching her walk out the doors of the gym.

 

He'd never deny that he'd found Darcy curious before, but now he was just down right intrigued. And also feeling somewhat murderous towards the people who'd hurt her. Mentally, he made a note to sneak into the record's room the next chance he got and see what he could find on the man who'd brain washed her. Her parents were dead, but if the man who'd possibly convinced her to kill them was still alive, than maybe he'd have a chance to deal with one scum bag from her life. And he had to admit, punching someone who'd caused her so much pain was very, very appealing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I've never been to Kinsale Tavern. I just looked up pubs in New York on Google.
> 
> Alternatively: would anyone be interested in seeing what happens while they're drinking at the Tavern or should I skip it? It would be an optional thing that wouldn't add more to the story except their interaction.


	6. Pubs Are a Good Place to Relax, Especially with Old Murry Serving Your Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Clint decide a drink is what they both need.

Darcy was already in the lobby when Clint stepped off the elevator, her phone in hand and fingers moving quickly over the keys. A dark leather coat was wrapped around her upper body, hiding whatever shirt she was wearing from view. Her jeans were tight, highlighting her long legs which were only accented more by her boots. It almost made Clint forget to get off the elevator. He'd known she looked good, but seeing her in something other than sweats or worn jeans and a baggy sweater drove the knowledge home.

 

She glanced up at the sound of the doors closing, offering him a smile as she dropped her phone back into her pocket and tucking her hands into her coat. “Hey Clint, ready to go?”

 

“You know it,” confirmed Clint, forcing his attention back onto his surroundings and walking towards her. Smiling, he pushed open the door and held it open for Darcy to step through first. She shot him a raised eyebrow but didn't fight it, passing him with a murmured 'thanks'. Cool air struck his face as he stepped out onto the pavement, helping to sooth the strain that he'd been feeling inside. “Subway or cab?”

 

“Subway works,” replied Darcy, nodding down the street. “There's a station just down the block.”

 

Clint shrugged. “Sounds good. There's a station less than a block from the bar.”

 

Darcy nodded, starting down the block towards where she'd gestured. “Perfect.”

 

They fell into silence after that, walking side by side with nearly a foot of space between them. The air outside had turned crisp with the impending fall, making the walk cool but pleasant with a light coat. Wind would pick up every once in a while to tease at Darcy's hair, sending the wild curls flying. It made Clint want to push the errant strands behind her ear.

 

“Clint?”

 

Darcy's voice drew him from his thoughts. He hid his surprise behind a smile. “Yeah?”

“You alright?” asked Darcy quietly. There's a touch of worry in her tone too, but it's not the over-whelming kind he'd gotten used to hearing. Not the type that came from people who thought he could break at any moment.

 

“Just thinking, that's all,” dismissed Clint easily, trying not to think about how easily she's working with him. Talking with him. Like he never killed a bunch of people at the whim of a mad-man. “Nothing to worry about.”

 

“Really?” countered Darcy with a raised eyebrow. “Because I'm pretty sure when you start thinking, the rest of us need to take cover.” There's a touch of a smile in her tone, slightly forced. She's trying to tease him but there's too much going on in her own head to really put her heart into it. Well, that's something he's got to fix. She's helping him, he can do the same in return.

 

“Hey, I'm not that bad,” objected Clint with a touch of a pout, forcing himself to relax a little. Darcy wasn't nervous around him; she never had been. But he knew how anxiety could rub off on others, and so he'd try to relax for her sake. _Act like you want others to act around you_ ; maybe it'll actually _work_ if he believes it enough.

 

Darcy smirked a little, starting down the stairs into the subway. “As long as your thoughts don't involve your trick arrows.”

 

This time, Clint really did pout. “Hey, you've gotta respect the arrows! They've gotten me out of a lot or jams.”

 

“I don't doubt it,” agreed Darcy, her own teasing smile on her lips. The line of her shoulders is relaxing a little, much to Clint's relief. “But even you've got to admit they're a little silly sometimes. I mean, boomerangs?”

 

“I swear those are useful,” argued Clint, falling into the conversation. It was nice to relax with someone again, just teasing each other and not really discussing anything serious. Hanging out with someone who wasn't afraid of him. It felt normal. “When you've got guys behind you but don't have time to turn and aim, they're useful.”

 

Darcy shook her head, flashing her subway pass by the senors and stepping through the turn-stye when it clicked. “And how do you actually expect to _hit_ people who are _behind_ you?”

 

Clint shrugged, swiping his own pass in the process. “I'm just that good?”

 

“Sure you are,” drawled Darcy with a roll of her eyes. The smirk was still there though, indicating that she was probably teasing him. Probably. Who knew what stories Phil had told her.

 

“You know it,” assured Clint. They arrived at the platform just before their train. Wind whistled heavily through the space, making him wince slightly. She held out a pair of ear plugs to him, slipping a second pair into her own ears. He took the small cones gratefully, slipping them into his own ears. It dulled the high pitched sounds significantly, making it easier to hear everything else.

 

They stood in silence until the train rolled in, boarding as soon as the doors were open. The car was wasn't completely full but it wasn't empty either. Still, they were left with standing room only. Without any prompting, Darcy headed immediately for the back of the car and squeezed into the corner with her back pressed to plastic. It was surprising to Clint, who preferred to have his back to a wall than exposed in places like this. He didn't argue though, just leaned against the wall next to her.

 

She popped out her ear plugs as soon as the door shut, rubbing the skin covering her ear canals. “I can't decide if the ear plugs or the sound of wind moving through the tunnels is worse.”

 

“I'd side with sound,” remarked Clint, removing his own ear plugs. “Always makes my ears ring.”

 

“Mine too,” agreed Darcy. “The plugs just feel weird.”

 

“Why do you carry ear plugs with you anyway?” asked Clint, offering the pair he was carrying back to her.

 

She just waved them away. “Keep them, I'm just going to toss them anyway. And the noise in the subway always bothers me. It's just easier to carry a set of ear plugs and not need them than to suffer needlessly.”

 

“Doesn't it make you nervous not being able to hear everything though?” asked Clint curiously. He'd already established something about Darcy was off. He wasn't doubting that. What he wondered was what made her different. Well, besides her screwed up early life.

 

“Not really,” replied Darcy with a shrug. “I know what's going on around me and that's all that matters.”

 

“You can't say that when you've got ear plugs in though,” argued Clint. “It takes away from your ability to monitor your environment.”

 

“I don't worry about it,” admitted Darcy, eyes glancing around the car. “There's other ways to monitor your environment.”

 

“Like?” pressed Clint curiously, one eyebrow rising.

 

Darcy just shrugged, offering him a mysterious smile. “Sorry, a girl has to keep some secrets.”

 

“And I've learned a bit too much about you already tonight,” reasoned Clint, smiling back a little.

 

For a moment, he just looked at Darcy as she stared around the car, eyes darting between passengers constantly. In just this one night, he'd learned a lot about her; more than he'd probably ever known about anyone save Natasha. But everything he'd learned was bad, consisting of memories and feelings he knew the woman in front of him didn't want to recall. It was time to learn something good. Turn both their thoughts to something a little better, even if it was just for a while. Then again, he seemed to suck at that so maybe this whole thing would blow up in his face. Only one way to know for sure. “So, why did you take the internship with Jane if you're a political science major?”

 

“Science credits,” replied Darcy simply. “Also, her research was interesting. Or, at least I thought it would be. Plus, it was better than taking a basic physic's class. I've never been good with theory if I can't see it in practice.”

 

Clint nodded slowly. “That's reasonable. Was it as interesting as you thought it would be? Well, until Thor showed up that is.”

 

“More or less,” agreed Darcy. “Jane's physics jargon went over my head more than once, but I feel like I've actually learned something.”

 

“Always good,” muttered Clint. He paused again, waiting to see if she said more. When she offered no more details, he switched topics. Kind of. “So, Pepper says you're interning over at Stark Industries.”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy. “She wants me to work in the PR department.”

 

“Sounds like a good job,” stated Clint. “Are you going to take it?”

 

She shrugged slightly. “I haven't decided yet.”

 

Well, that wasn't expected. “Most people would jump at a chance to work with Stark Industries, especially in PR. They get paid the most to fix Tony's social faux pas'.”

 

“Yeah,” agreed Darcy quietly, “but I've got another offer on the table to consider too.”

 

Both of Clint's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Okay, when he thought about it, it wasn't so surprising. Pepper was going to be seriously peeved if her intern got poached, though. “Another offer?”

 

She nodded slightly, eyes making one more pass around the car before she refocused her gaze on Clint. “Mhm. It's not as good as Pepper's, but...”

 

“It's more worth-while?” guessed Clint. “Or you'd be helping someone you care about out if you took the second offer?”

 

“A little of both,” admitted Darcy. “It's not that I don't enjoy working for Pepper, but I still want to get involved with international law and the other job...it's still not in-line with my goals but it's closer and I'd be helping out someone who's helped me before.”

 

Clint shrugged a little, reaching out to brace himself on the bar over their heads as the train turned. Darcy just pressed herself harder into the corner of the train car, leaning away as the force made him lean closer to her. She tried to be subtle about it, but he noticed. It was his job to notice things like that. “You don't like to touch people, do you?”

 

Her eyes fell away from him, focusing out the window over his shoulders. He could tell from the angle of her pupils. “You've been through the same thing, I'd think it would be the same for you.”

 

“I went through it a long time ago,” reasoned Clint. “And yeah, for a while I didn't like to be touched, but I got over it once I realized that everyone who moved to touch me wasn't going to hurt me.”

 

“I've never enjoyed being touched by anyone.” Her body tightened, muscles tensing sharply. Suddenly. Okay, apparently that was the wrong thing to say. “It's just who I am.”

 

Clint nodded, backing off immediately. Making her defensive was the last thing he was trying to do. They both needed to relax tonight. “Sorry, it was an observation, not an attack.”

 

Her eyes met his again, an apology written across her face. “No, I should apologize. Normally I'm not that defensive, it's just been a long day.”

 

“Understandable,” assured Clint.

 

For a moment, they stood in silence as the doors opened to allow passengers to get on or off. Clint wracked his brain for anything they could talk about that was considered 'normal' conversation. Being isolated on a military base then kidnapped _then_ running into battle with a bunch of superheros to save the world didn't exactly leave a lot of time for socializing. Well, not with anyone _normal_ anyway. Tasha was pretty morbid most of the time, which didn't surprise him at all given the life she'd had prior to S.H.I.E.L.D., and he couldn't say anyone else really trusted him enough to have a normal conversation.

 

“So, Phil told me you came out of the circus,” started Darcy, startling Clint. He'd assumed any further conversation would have to be started by him. “That must have been different.”

 

“Different is one way of putting it,” sighed Clint, rubbing the back of his head. “It was hard work, but better than the alternatives.”

 

Darcy nodded, eyes shifting back out to stare at the tunnel walls. “Foster care isn't really anyone's ideal alternative. Some kids are fine in it, but...”

 

“People like us usually aren't,” finished Clint. “You were lucky Phil adopted you.”

 

She shrugged a little. “I'm lucky they didn't throw me in prison.”

 

Clint's eyes began scanning the train car, identifying the new passengers and categorizing them as 'threatening' or 'probably harmless'. “You were a kid and brain washed. I'm not sure anyone would cite what you did as wrong or criminal by your own choosing.”

 

“Probably not,” agreed Darcy quietly. “Doesn't mean there wasn't a good chance that I would have still been blamed though.” Clearing her throat a little, Clint watched her refocus her gaze on him. “Where was this circus anyway?”

 

“Iowa,” replied Clint, trying to force himself to relax again. It was normal to discuss where you were from with people you didn't know well. At least, he recalled someone telling him that once. Well, he hoped he recalled it and the conversation wasn't all a hallucination. “How about you? Where did you come from?”

 

“Just outside Omaha,” replied Darcy. “Place called Bellevue.”

 

Both of Clint's eyebrows rose. “Nebraska?”

 

“Yeah, know it?” asked Darcy curiously.

 

“We passed through the area a few times,” explained Clint. “We stopped in some of the surrounding cities.”

 

Darcy nodded slowly, apparently trying to think back. “Most of my memory from back then is pretty blurry, but I remember one night Andrew was in a really bad mood. Really bad. Throwing chairs bad. I snuck out of the house because I knew sticking around would be too dangerous and started to wonder the streets. There was all this noise from the river earlier that day, so I started in that direction and ended up at the edge of this clearing where all these people were working. I don't know if it was a carnival or a circus or what, but there were just people and animals everywhere. I'd never seen anything like it. I thought about going closer, but couldn't bring myself to. Too many people I didn't know, too much risk. I couldn't risk the cops taking me home until Andrew'd passed out, so I just sat there watching these people set up their traveling attraction. Spent hours up there, watching everything.”

 

“Did you see any kids running around?” asked Clint curiously. He knew there were kids in some circus', obviously. If it wasn't because their parents were in an act, it was because they'd escaped something bad like he and Barney had.

 

“Several,” confirmed Darcy quietly. “Most of them were older though, so I didn't want to risk getting close. Older kids, especially boys, weren't always nice to me.”

 

“I remember that,” admitted Clint. “I had to pull more than a few kids off each other.”

 

Darcy nodded quietly, eyes a bit distant. “I saw the name of the circus, but I can't remember it now. There were two older boys though, I remember seeing them at the edge of the group. One of them was setting up several bails of hay and pinning a target to it, an improvised shooting range.”

 

“Did he have a bow?” asked Clint. There had been several circus' with archery acts; if she could describe the boy or the bow, he might be able to tell her which circus it was.

 

“He had a case like the one you carry,” replied Darcy. “And there was a bow, but I was too far away to make out any details. I just remember it was curved funny at the tips, not straight, and it looked like their might have been a design to the whole thing. It caught my eye because the few bows I'd seen didn't look like that; they were all either fiberglass compact bows or the cheap wooden reproductions. This one looked nice.”

 

Clint smiled a little, shaking his head. “There were several bows like that in a few different circus'. Who knows, maybe it was me you saw.”

 

A touch of a smile pulled at Darcy's lips. “That's a nice thought, actually. The closest I came to sneaking down there was when he put the bow down to go help another boy a little older than him with something. I wanted to see the bow, because it looked so pretty.”

 

Nodding, Clint wondered if it hadn't been him she'd seen. There weren't _that_ many circus' in the area. Especially ones that had archery acts. It would definitely be some strange twist of fate if that were the case. And maybe just a touch creepy. “Did anyone ever teach you how to shoot?”

 

One of Darcy's eyebrows rose in surprise. “A gun?”

 

“A bow,” replied Clint with a shrug. “I'm assuming Phil taught you to use a gun.”

 

“Not long after I moved in with him,” confirmed Darcy. “Er, he taught me to use a gun, I mean. No one's ever taught me to use a bow.”

 

Clint nodded slowly, an idea forming in his mind. “Want me to teach you? Sounds like you were pretty interested in bows, at least back then.”

 

“Just that one,” corrected Darcy, a smile tugging at her lips. “And sure, that could be fun. At least, it looked fun when the boy was practicing.”

 

“Did you go to the circus once it was open?” asked Clint. "Maybe get a better look at some of the preformers?"

 

“No,” replied Darcy with a sigh. “My parents never would have gone with me and I didn't think they'd let me in alone. Besides, the police were pretty big on making sure kids didn't run around by themselves in some effort to reduce child kidnappings or something like that. It meant I had to hide in unpopulated places when I couldn't go home.”

 

“I doubt they would have gotten upset about a kid at the circus alone,” objected Clint. “It's a place for people to play. Well, if you aren't staff.”

 

“The police came to our school and told us we couldn't go to the circus alone,” explained Darcy. “I think I was eight, maybe nine. They didn't even like us wondering around town alone unless we were going to and from school. Even then, I almost got picked up more than once and had to come up with an excuse. The one time the police brought me home because they caught me walking alone from school, things were really bad once they'd left.”

 

Clint winced, nodding. He remembered his own father getting mad whenever anyone came by the house that wasn't family. Especially if it was because either he or Barney had screwed up. “I remember my dad was like that too.” Running a hand through his hair, he offered Darcy a smile. “I know it doesn't change anything, but if it was my circus and you had come by, I would have made sure to get you out.”

 

A smile tugged at the corner of Darcy's lips again, faint but there. “It doesn't change anything, but it's nice to hear anyway.”

 

Silence descended between them as the train made another stop, a large group of people getting on. It looked like a party crowd likely heading downtown. Everyone in the group was dressed to hit a party of some kind. Several of the girls gave him an appraising look as they passed, a few of the guys shooting interested looks at Darcy as well. She just cocked an eyebrow at them though, sending the guys scattering. He ignored the girls. They were all too young for him.

 

As the train began to move again, Clint picked up the conversation once more. “What's college like?”

 

“College?” repeated Darcy, raising an eyebrow at him. “It's school, just with more freedom. You get to actually study what you _want_ rather than just what you have to. Why? Thinking about going back?”

 

“Nah,” dismissed Clint. “Wouldn't do me much good. I have a good job, a specialized skill set, and a purpose. I don't need to go back. I just never went and wondered what it was like.”

Darcy shrugged a little. “It's school. You sign up for classes, teachers give you homework, projects, etc. It's a more diverse community, which is nice, and you get some practical experience in your field, but otherwise...it's school.” She paused for a moment, considering something. “What was it like being in the circus?”

 

“Hard,” admitted Clint. “It could be fun too, though. Just depended on the day. There were times we would be setting up in winter that were brutal and times in summer that were hard but fun. At night everyone would gather around the central fire and talk. Chatter. It was like having a very large and strange family.”

“It sounds kind of nice,” stated Darcy with a soft smile. “Having all those people around to help watch your back.”

 

Clint shrugged again. “I can't say everyone was that friendly, but some of us were close.” He paused then, wanting so badly to ask the one question he'd been dying to know the answer to since he'd met Darcy.

 

“Just ask, Clint,” spoke up Darcy suddenly, startling him. Looking at her eyes, he could see the mild exasperation she was apparently feeling towards him. “I have no secrets, remember? Also, you think very loud for what you do.”

 

“Do not,” muttered Clint. “'Tasha swears I never think.”

 

“Then Natasha doesn't spend much time with you,” countered Darcy. “Now ask. If I don't want to answer, I won't answer.”

 

“Fine,” sighed Clint. “What was living with Phil like?”

 

A sad smile tugged at Darcy's lips, belaying the mix of emotions that came with the question. “Interesting, honestly. He was very protective of me, which meant I didn't do things like go to work with him. Honestly, I should have probably had a babysitter but, after everything, I was used to taking care of myself. He didn't worry too much when he left me home alone, especially given we were living in a S.H.I.E.L.D. sanctioned apartment until I turned fifteen. At that point, he opted to move us off base, probably at least in part for his sanity. Having a 15-year-old daughter around a bunch of military men didn't seem like a good idea to him.”

 

“I can't imagine why,” muttered Clint. “I would have moved, too.”

 

“Regardless, living with Phil was nice,” admitted Darcy. “He was always there when I needed him. If I woke up in the middle of the night, he'd throw on a movie and watch it with me. On days when I was tense, he would meditate with me or divert the energy into martial arts. He helped me with my homework, came to any and all parent-teacher conferences, showed up for open house and back to school night. Everything. It didn't matter how menial it was, if I was involved than so was Phil. Well, except for dating. He pretended I wasn't even interested in dating until I was seventeen and my prom date picked me up.”

 

Clint grinned, trying to image how his former boss would have reacted to finding a pimply-faced kid on his doorstep, ready to take his adoptive daughter to a dance. “Were there guns involved in that last exchange?”

 

“Probably,” laughed Darcy. “Guns or knives. Or just his 'I can kill you ten different ways with a paper-clip' look. Any of the above and possible a mix of all three were likely involved. My date did look pretty pale when I came down.”

 

“Sounds like he was a pretty awesome dad,” commented Clint, offering her his arm as the train pulled up to their stop.

 

“He was,” confirmed Darcy sadly, tucking her hands back into her pockets. “No matter what I wanted to do, he supported me. He taught me about loyalty and showed me what parents should actually be. It wasn't like anyone ever guessed I was adopted anyway. I even looked like him.”

 

“A little,” agreed Clint, dropping his arm back to his side. Apparently, despite their sparring match, she still wasn't comfortable with touching him. Or maybe it was just the sheer number of people around them. That could be it too, what with the threat of physical contact and all. “Actually, more than I thought when I look at you. Wasn't he from the same town as you, too?”

 

“Yeah,” murmured Darcy, heading for the open train doors. Clint followed quickly behind. Almost no one got off at the stop except them. The few other passengers who did exit, Clint watched carefully. He didn't think anyone on the train had been a threat to them, but one never knew for sure.

 

Still scanning the platform, he followed Darcy as she headed for the stairs up. “So, I mean, I'm sure you looked into this, but couldn't you be related to him?”

 

Darcy paused mid-way up the stairs, eyes wide like the thought never occurred to her. Which, hell, maybe it hadn't. “I don't think so...I'm sure Fury and Phil tested my DNA against his or something when they brought me in and they would have said something if I was related to Phil.” Shaking her head, she started moving quickly again. “Besides, I don't see Phil sleeping with Meredith. My mom wasn't exactly his type, if the women he dated while I was living with him were any indication.”

 

“They might not have, too,” pointed out Clint, holding up one hand to Darcy in a gesture for silence. For a moment all he did was focus on the noise from above, listening carefully for any suspicious sounds. When he confirmed that all he could hear was street noise, he relaxed a little more again and continued with his previous train of thought. “How were you adopted?”

 

One of Darcy's eyebrows rose in confusion. “I don't really know, honestly. Phil just came to me one day and asked if I would be willing to stay with him or if I wanted to live with a different family. I didn't want to leave, so he said I didn't have to. It never came up again.” Shrugging, she added: “Ask Fury if you want to know more.”

 

“Is that permission?” asked Clint half-seriously. He really was curious about this one- even with her parents dead, she should have gone to another family member before a stranger.

 

“Knock yourself out,” dismissed Darcy with another shrug. “He'll tell you if it's not classified. I'm not really sure how they managed to make me disappear.”

 

Clint nodded as the pub came into view, lightly resting his hand on Darcy's shoulder. She didn't flinch this time; if anything the presence helped her to relax. “Here's the pub.”

 

Darcy nodded, pulling open the heavy wooden door on the front of the establishment. The sounds of loud talking and plastic connecting with wood echoed out of the space in front of them. Several TV's were mounted on the walls around the room, displaying different international soccer games with subtitles and muted sounds. Groups of people hovered in different places inside, talking and laughing. The whole place had a very warm feel to it, almost homey. But even with all of that, it was quiet enough that people could still talk at a reasonable decibel level.

 

“So what do you want to drink?” asked Darcy, walking inside and tugging off her coat.

 

Clint wanted to answer, he really did, but he was having some trouble getting his jaw to work. Or his brain for that matter. The shirt she was in wasn't indecent per say, it was actually kind of funny and explained why she'd been wearing her jacket inside the lobby of the building. What was making it hard for him to speak was a combination of the design on the shirt and the, well, tightness of the fit.

 

He was guessing it was pilfered from Phil, probably years and years ago if he had to take a guess. Captain America's shield was proudly displayed in the middle of the tee-shirt, stretched nearly indecently across Darcy's well-sized chest. The fabric rode up some around her stomach, giving him a view of the skin between the top of her tight jeans and her shirt.

 

_Stop being a pervert, Barton! The girl is standing there in what's got to be one of her_ **father's** _old shirts. One of your former_ **friends** _shirts. Get over it._

 

Shaking his head, he managed to grab the door before it closed and step in after her with _some_ dignity. “Um, Guinness. Dark Guinness.” Pausing, he considered his choice. “Actually, scratch that. Whiskey neat.”

 

“So, two whiskey's. Got it,” confirmed Darcy as she sauntered towards the bar.

 

Clint pulled his own jacket off, glaring at a few guys near the door who were checking Darcy out. A few of them tried to glare back, but most of them quickly returned to their drinks and conversation like smart people. There were no free tables, so he headed for the bar and quickly dropped his jacket on a stool beside where Darcy was standing. “No tables.”

 

“Not a surprise,” remarked Darcy with a shrug. “At least the place isn't packed to the brim.”

 

“At least,” agreed Clint, nodding to Old Murry where he stood behind the bar.

 

The bar keeper was, as his name implied, relatively old looking but easily one of the best bar tenders in New York. He could pour a perfect pint of Guinness every time with his eyes closed and knew his liquor well enough to stock the place with only good labels- and that didn't necessarily mean expensive.

 

Murry's gray-bearded face appeared in front of Clint a moment later, looking between the archer and Darcy wearily. “Bloody hell Barton, though you had more sense than ta date a girl nearly half yer age.”

 

“Hey!” objected Clint, grinning. “She's only ten years younger than me.”

 

“Aye, and she's wearin' another man's shirt too,” growled Murry. “Please tell me she's yer boss' kid and not his gal. 'Cause I will not put up with you stealin' another fella's gal. Not in my bar.”

 

“Relax Murry,” assured Clint. “I'm not trying to steal her from anyone. Though,” he paused and pretended to give Darcy an assessing look. She returned it with her own smirk. “Okay, maybe I would. But I swear, I don't have to sleep with _every_ girl I meet.”

 

“Jus' most of 'em,” scolded Murry. “I've heard of yer tendencies, Barton. Tha' Russian gal o' yers has stories.”

 

“That's because 'Tasha practically stalks me when she's bored,” growled Clint.

 

Murry chuckled, shaking his head. “Cannot say I'm surprised by that. She's a scary woman, yer partner.”

 

“You're telling me,” muttered Clint. Clearing his throat, he raised his voice back to a proper speaking level and looked at Darcy. “So, Darce, this is Old Murry.”

 

Darcy smiled and nodded at Murry, carefully keeping her hands tucked away. “Yeah, I remember him from the time Phil brought me here. He pretty much threw this creepy guy who'd been staring at me all night out of the bar.”

 

“Aye, I recall you,” stated Murry, rubbing his gray whiskers. “You were th' young lass tha' came in with Coulson.”

 

“He's my dad,” confirmed Darcy. “Er, was. He was my dad.”

 

“So I heard,” sighed Murry. “My condolences to you, Miss Darcy.”

 

“Thanks,” thanked Darcy, forcing a smile. “And it's nice to meet you.”

 

“As 'tis to meet you,” agreed Murry. “So what can Old Murry get fer you?”

 

“Two whiskeys, neat,” ordered Clint with a grin. “Thank's Murry.”

 

“'s what I'm here ta do,” reminded Murry with a shake of his head. He turned back to Darcy and offered her a smile. “Keep lookin', Lass. This one's taken a few too many hits ta the head.”

 

Clint actually felt a touch insulted. Well, not really, but it was fun to play it that way. “Hey, I resemble that comment! I mean resent. Resent! And the number of times I've hit my head is still only in the double digits!”

 

“Yeah, the high double digits,” countered Darcy, grin curling across her lips. “Once you've hit the 90's, you might as well give up hope of dodging the triple digits.”

 

“But I get a cake when I hit 100,” argued Clint. “Who doesn't like cake?”

 

Darcy blinked at him, almost looking worried. “Dude, if all you want is a cake, I'll make you one.”

 

“Nah, I'd rather earn it,” insisted Clint, his own grin settling in. “Tastes better.”

 

“Yeah, because you've damaged your brain so many times it can't process taste anymore,” countered Darcy. “Dirt would probably taste good.”

 

Murry laughed, catching Clint's attention again. Glancing at the bar keeper, he can see the way the older man is eying them with a smile. “Perhaps I spoke too soon. You might be able ta actually keep this oaf in line. Jus' make sure he doesn't cause you grief.”

 

“Don't worry, I have a taser and I'm not afraid to use it,” assured Darcy with a grin.

 

Murry laughed again, setting their drinks in front of them. “Well, enjoy yer drinks an' let me know if you need anythin'.” Turning to Clint, he added: “Keep an eye on the Lass. There's plenty o' men in this bar tha' would love a chance at 'er.”

 

“You got it, Murry,” assured Clint with a grin. “I'm not letting anything happen to her.”

 

Darcy snorted slightly as Murry walked away, offering Clint a smirk. “I'm pretty sure it'll be me keeping you out of trouble.”

 

“That's usually what 'Tasha has to do,” admitted Clint, taking a sip of his whiskey. “She's pulled me out of more than one fight.”

 

“Never mind then,” muttered Darcy. “We might be in trouble. Do you have someone to call if we get arrested?”

 

Clint shrugged, offering her a smirk and raising his whiskey glass. “I figure Tony's good for bail money.”

 

“Sweet,” replied Darcy, clicking her own glass against his. “So it's agreed: if we get arrested, we call Tony.”

 

Sipping his whiskey, Clint carefully set the glass down. “What do you think we'd be most likely to get arrested for?”

 

“Drunken brawling,” answered Darcy instantly. “Though I've got to say, you seem more like an 'indecent exposure' kind of guy.”

 

“Eh, that's only a small percentage of my arrest record,” dismissed Clint. “Twenty percent, tops.”

 

Darcy snorted slightly, choking a bit on her whiskey. “So what's the other eighty percent?”

 

“A combination of assault, drunken disorderly, minor violations for possession, and one for having a deadly weapon in public,” recounted Clint with a shrug. “All charges related to the last two were dismissed though.”

 

One of Darcy's eyebrows rose. “I'm a little afraid to ask, but possession of what?”

 

“Explosives,” replied Clint. “Apparently, I failed to apply for the proper permits to own and carry low-grade military explosives.”

 

“For your arrows, right?” asked Darcy, taking another sip of her drink.

 

Clint nodded, doing the same. “Yep. I make the tips myself, so I need the raw explosives and it's usually easier to do that at home in my down time.”

 

Darcy chuckled a little, shaking her head. “So let me get this straight: you spend your down time building explosive arrow tips? You know that makes you sound like some kind of mad bomber, right?”

 

“Hey, I don't _just_ build exploding ones,” objected Clint. “There's other ones too. Like my boomerang arrows!”

 

“I still can't believe those work,” muttered Darcy with a shake of her head. “You're insane, you know that right?”

 

“'Tasha blames head trauma,” replied Clint with a shrug. “I personally don't think there's anything wrong with me.”

 

“Right,” stated Darcy with a shake of her head. “Keep telling yourself that, Clint.”

 

“Gladly,” stated Clint with a smirk. “So what about you? What do you do in your down time?”

 

Darcy shrugged a little. “Depends on when the downtime is. If we're talking nights I can't sleep, the gym and video games. Also, the internet. Cat memes make everything better.”

 

“I'll take your word for that,” muttered Clint.

 

“Seriously, try it next time you have a mission go sour,” insisted Darcy. “It's great. Something about cats doing weird things is just fun.”

 

Clint smirked a little, downing the rest of his whiskey. “I wouldn't have pegged you for a crazy cat lady.”

 

“Dude, I don't want to _own_ a cat,” objected Darcy immediately. “Not unless I could have my friend's cat, Bruce. He's a little shit, but he's a friendly little shit.” Following his lead, she downed the rest of her whiskey as well. “The last thing I need is a feline ninja trying to kill me every time I come home.”

 

“You find them entertaining,” pointed out Clint. “So why not?”

 

“I repeat: little feline ninja trying to kill me every time I come home.” Darcy just shook her head. “No thank you. Besides, I also find Tony entertaining and yet I have no interest in bringing him home.”

 

“That's probably just safer for everyone though,” insisted Clint. “I'm pretty sure Tony shouldn't be allowed to mix with the general population. It might lead to death.”

 

One of Darcy's eyebrows rose in a way that reminded Clint of Phil. Especially in the way she managed to convey exactly what she was saying in that one motion. “Might?”

 

“Might,” confirmed Clint. “It would definitely lead to explosions and a possible loss of sanity for anyone who came into contact with him. There only might be death involved in that.”

 

“I can accept those parameters,” agreed Darcy after a moment. “You know, if he weren't considered such a genius, Tony would probably be on medication at minimum.”

 

“Or have ended up locked in a sanitarium,” added Clint. “I could see a sanitarium. By the way, you've been hanging with the scientists too much; you just used the word 'parameters' in a sentence.”

 

“It's a multipoint word. And Tony in a nut-house is a funny image,” snorted Darcy slightly. “I could just see him having a quantum physics debate with some guy who's so drugged up all he can do is drool.”

 

“He would too,” agreed Clint. “He'd just have the conversation with himself, pretty much like he does now. Want another whiskey?”

 

“Sure,” stated Darcy with a shrug. “Sounds like fun.”

 

Clint motioned for Old Murry to bring two more whiskeys, then turned back to Darcy. “What kind of music do you like?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, 1) sorry for more heavy stuff. I'm kind of writing what happened to Darcy as I write this, so my mind is going in two directions. 2) Sorry for ending it in the bar, but the chapter was getting long and when it passes the ten page mark, I start to get a little anxious.
> 
> Also, Bruce is a real cat.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter is overly long, this one is short by comparison, I forgot the cute stuff in the last one and this one has it...geez, I'm off my game.

Clint sighed and rolled his shoulder as he opened the door to the roof. An ice chest filled with beer was gripped in one hand and a blanket was tucked under his arm, the one he _hadn't_ landed on falling off a building. Thankfully, it hadn't been high enough to break his arm.

 

He'd gotten a call at nearly 4 am informing him the Avengers were being deployed to deal with some two-bit villain who'd managed to build a giant robot which was destroying Miami. What no one had mentioned is that there was more than one robot. A fact that was apparently missed in the initial assessment. So they'd spent most of the day fighting giant robots, then in debrief. Now, Clint just wanted to curl up on the roof with beer and an ice pack.

 

Letting the door shut behind him, Clint started towards the corner of the roof that he'd claimed as his own only to stop dead at the sight in front of him. Darcy was lying in a pile of blankets in his normal spot. There was an old radio next to her broadcasting what sounded like a World-War two era broadcast. The blanket was covered in little Captain America shields and Darcy was curled up in an old S.H.I.E.L.D sweatshirt and sweatpants bearing the same logo.

 

“How was the mission?”

 

Darcy's words startled him back to reality. She was still laying on the blanket looking away from him, but somehow she'd known he was there. Just like Coulson had been able to. _Creepy._

 

Moving to the edge of the roof beside where Darcy lay sprawled out, Clint set the ice chest filled with beer beside her. “It was fine. Why are you on the roof?”

 

“Flashbacks,” replied Darcy. “I have them on occasion. Isolation and fresh air are the best cures. Hence, the roof. Plus, no one looks for me up here. They consider it your spot.”

 

Now that he was next to her, Clint could hear the radio was replaying the old Captain America war stories which were used as propaganda. Seemed like a strange choice for easy listening, especially when flashbacks most likely due to violence were the reason she was hiding. “War stories aren't exactly easy listening.”

 

Shrugging, she paused the tape she was listening to and finally looked up at him. “Phil used to put them on when I had a bad day. It helped me focus, put everything into perspective.” Sitting all the way up, she pats a spot next to her on the blanket. “I really hope there's beer in that ice chest.”

 

Flipping up the lid, he tosses her one of the beers and pops his own open. “Wanna talk about it?”

 

“No,” stated Darcy. “Nothing to talk about.” Sipping her beer, she sets the bottle aside as Clint drops next to her on the blanket. “How are you doing?”

 

“Fine,” replied Clint, sipping his beer to cover a slight wince. “Everything's fine.”

 

“Liar.” Her single word statement makes him visibly flinch. The look in her eyes conveys the same disbelief. “What happened.”

 

Sighing, Clint flopped backwards on the blanket so he can stare up at the stars. It's a weaker position than he'd normally ever put himself in, but he's starting to feel safe around Darcy. _She won't judge you, Clint. She's said as much. Just tell her what happened. Maybe she'll know what to do._ It was strange to think that someone else might be able to help him with his problems; even 'Tasha couldn't do that. Then again, his partner had her own problems.

 

For several minutes they sat in silence as he tried to corral his thoughts into a cohesive line he could verbally express. It wasn't easy. “I froze today, on a shot.” That was the hardest part to get out. He prided himself on his quick reflexes and unflinching accuracy. But today, he'd flinched. Not long enough for anyone to notice, not long enough for anyone to question if he should be in the field or not, but he knew he had flinched none the less.

 

Darcy nodded slowly, sipping at her beer. “Why'd you freeze?” Her voice was so calm, so casual, they could have been talking about the weather.

 

It made everything just come tumbling out. “There was an agent on the ground, near where I was taking the shot. I scanned the area, looking for my target and when I passed over him it just...hit me. The memory. Germany. The art museum. Security guards in my cross-hairs. Then that eye... and I thought: 'If I let it go now, he'd be dead'. I caught myself calculating the distance, the amount of force, saw what would have happened, all of it went through my head before I could spin away. Before I could move my cross-hairs away. And I just, I was there all over again.”

 

The brush of fingertips over the back of Clint's hand surprised him. Dropping his eyes to the blanket, he realized Darcy's fingers were resting over his own. It wasn't much contact, but he suspected it was a sacrifice to do even that. Turning his hand over, he tried to lightly squeeze her fingers in response. She ended up shifting her hand so their fingers intertwined instead, leaving space between their palms.

 

“It'll happen,” she admitted. “The flashbacks, the feeling that you're back in that same situation all over again.” Rising her eyes to meet his, she firmly held his gaze. Her blue orbs showed nothing but understanding. A reflection of his own pain in her eyes. “The best way to deal with it is expect it to happen. If you know it can happen, even just a chance of it, you'll be watching for it. So when you do flash back, it won't blind-side you like that again.” Sighing, she shifted to completely face him. “Did you want to shoot him, Clint?”

 

He didn't even pause before answering. “No.”

 

“Did you get the urge to shoot him?” continued Darcy gently.

 

Again, no hesitation. “No.”

 

Smiling softly at him, she ran her thumb over the back of his hand. “Then you're fine. The flashbacks will be triggered by similar situations or minor stimuli you might not even realize are connected. Sometimes it's a word or phrase, sometimes it'll be a shadow across your vision. Then, there will days like today, when you're in the same position you were in back then and your mind draws a parallel.” Her fingers squeezed his softly. “It'll keep happening for a long time, possibly for the rest of your life, but it gets easier. The more time that passes, the fewer flashbacks you'll have.”

 

“But they won't go away,” stated Clint, sliding his free hand through his hair in frustration. “I- I'm not sure I can work like that.”

 

“You can,” assured Darcy firmly. “It's an adjustment, but it'll be alright.” Squeezing his fingers a little, she added: “If you're worried, you could tell the others.”

 

“No.” He wasn't going there. “The last thing I need is to give them more reason to doubt my ability to handle this.”

 

Dropping her eyes to their hands, she kept her voice soft and even. “No one is doubting your abilities and no one is going to argue your skills. If you want to keep this quiet, you can. It's your choice. But it might be safer for the others to know about the flashbacks. Just saying.”

 

“Did you ever tell anyone about yours?” asked Clint. Above them, more stars were starting to flicker into view.

 

“One person,” admitted Darcy. “Phil home-schooled me for a year before I was enrolled in public school. He did it to keep me in a controlled environment until he knew for sure I'd be alright. But the first year I was in school, one of the other students just moved wrong. I freaked out and ran out of the room. After that, Phil had to explain that I'd been abused to the teacher. She didn't tell anyone else, just made sure she knew I was available to talk if I needed to. I'm still in contact with her.”

 

Clint nodded slowly, refocusing on Darcy. “Did she treat you any differently?”

 

“Not once,” replied Darcy. “She just worked to make sure I felt safe.”

 

They fell silent again, Darcy returning to her beer and Clint just taking solace in the stars above. He never let go of her hand though, and she never removed it. Finally, Darcy switched the Captain America tape back on and lay down beside him. The narrator’s voice filled the silence, lulling Clint into a twilight state.

 

He came back to full awareness when he felt Darcy shift beside him, then roll over against his side. _What the hell?_ Lifting his head, he realized the brunette woman had fallen asleep beside him. and in her sleep, she'd curled against him. Carefully turning onto his side, Clint pulled the blanket over them and rested his arm around Darcy's waist. Closing his eyes, Clint allowed himself to relax and fall asleep again with Darcy safely tucked against his side.


	8. Video Games at 3 AM are the Best Distraction

The sky was still dark when Clint woke hours later, still wrapped comfortably in the Captain America blanket. But the war stories tape had stopped long ago and Darcy was no longer lying next to him. Idly, he wondered how she'd slipped away without his notice.

 

Sitting up, he stretched out his sore shoulder and scanned the rooftop. No sign of Darcy anywhere. Apparently, she'd slipped away while he was asleep. _Shit. I really, really hope I didn't step in it this time. The last thing I want is to upset Darcy._ He would be the first person to admit that she helped reassure him that things would be okay. Seeing someone who had been through the same kind of hell he had living a normal life gave him hope he could do the same. Well, as normal of a life as he ever had anyway.

 

Gathering the blanket and beers (the tape player was gone), Clint headed inside the tower. It wasn't really cold outside, but he didn't really see any reason for continuing to hang out on the rooftop. Besides, he had a hammock in his room that was calling his name. Natasha might tease him all the time for having a 'literal nest' in his room, but it was a _comfortable_ nest. One he really wanted to sleep in. But first, the kitchen to drop off the unopened beers.

 

It wasn't that he couldn't take the beers back to his room; they were his after all. But as Natasha had pointed out, things that went into his room tended to disappear until they started to rot (she was never letting him live down the month-old tuna sandwich she'd found under his bed once). So, to avoid the teasing, he would be good and clean up his mess.

 

Checking the clock as he entered the kitchen, he wanted to groan. It was almost 3 am. No wonder he was tired. _Alright, put up the beers and get to bed. I'll look for Darcy in the morning; she's probably already gone to bed herself._

 

Idly, Clint wondered what Darcy's bedroom would _look like_. She seemed to be a Captain America fan, at least in part, but he somehow doubted her whole room would be wallpapered in posters of the hero. Then again, with a mega-fan like Phil (who Clint knew had owned several pairs of Captain America boxers) for a father, it was possible she had a similar love for the Star-Spangled All-American Hero. The idea left a strange taste in Clint's mouth; one that was notably unpleasant. _Okay, that's ridiculous. I am not jealous of Steve just because Darcy might have some kind of fan-crush on the man. She's way too young for me on top of being Phil's daughter. I'm not going there._

 

He'd just put the last few beers in the fridge when the sound of a quietly shouted 'Yes!' cut through the room. It was a victory shout, no matter how quietly it was made. _What the..._?

 

Glancing towards the living room, he could just make out the glow of the TV around the edges of the doorway. It was the only light flickering in the otherwise dark room. _Huh, that's weird. No one's ever up this late. Well, except me, Darcy, and occasionally Natasha. And Tony if Pepper isn't around, but then he's in the workshop and not the living room. Jane's up sometimes, but again, she'd be in her lab and not the living room. Especially not at 3 am._

 

Wrapping the blanket he was still carrying around his shoulders (he'd return it to Darcy tomorrow because sneaking into her bedroom to drop it off was too creepy even for him), Clint crept to the arch leading into the living room and peered around the edge. Darcy was standing in the middle of the room in the same S.H.I.E.L.D sweatpants as before. A tank top like the ones she worked out in had replaced her sweatshirt, which was slung over the back of the couch.

 

The game 'Iron Man Battle Royal' was splashed across the screen. Tony had sketched up the game idea after the press conference when he announced to the world that he was Iron Man and Stark Industries had pitched the idea not long after. They'd managed to produce the game within a year, though Clint knew Tony had fiddled with the programming on his copy to include other members of the team.

 

Currently, it was Iron Man on the screen doing a victory dance through the air. Darcy, for her part, was using the downtime to stretch out her arms a little before waving her hand towards the bottom of the screen and returning to the combat menu. Pulling up the character list, she selected another character on the left, then made a second selection from the right list and watched as the game loaded up her choices. Clint actually felt himself blushing a little when the Hawkeye character appeared on one side of the screen and Natasha appeared on the other.

 

Darcy started to move her arms and legs around in carefully timed motions, directing the Hawkeye character's actions with ease. _Well, she did admit to logging a lot of hours on the game when she was in Norway._ Even so, she was very good with her current character selection. Which was kind of scary because he knew that particular character wasn't in the primary game.

 

“You can play next if you want.” Darcy's voice startled him, making him jump slightly for the second time that day. Well, night. Could he have jumped twice in one day if one incident had happened before midnight and the other after?

 

“You're thinking loudly again,” informed Darcy. The game on the screen froze as Darcy glanced over her shoulder at him, motioning with one hand to the couch. “At least take a seat. You look like a stalker hovering in the doorway like that.”

 

“Good morning to you too,” muttered Clint, even as he moved into the room and perched on the back of the couch. “Why are you playing video games at 3 am?”

 

“Couldn't sleep,” replied Darcy, unpausing the game and continuing to kick the digital Natasha's ass with his character. In some strange and twisted way, it was hot.

 

“You were sleeping pretty well earlier,” pointed out Clint, eyes watching her motions. “I'm definitely teaching you to shoot a bow. Seriously, we'll start tomorrow.”

 

“JARVIS said you busted up your shoulder,” stated Darcy, slashing her hand though the air. Her breath was coming faster from the exertion. “You don't get to teach me anything until it's better. Fury's orders.”

 

“Good to know Fury can restrict my leisure activities,” muttered Clint unhappily, clasping his hands in front of him and leaning forward on his elbows. “Seriously, what happened? You were sleeping soundly earlier.”

 

“Nightmare,” replied Darcy, slicing her arms outward. On screen, Hawkeye released a rapid series of arrows. “Nothing new.”

 

“I'm pretty sure I can't actually fire that fast,” stated Clint, watching the screen with sharp eyes. “Want to talk about it?”

 

“You probably could, it's you after all. And no, I don't really want to talk about it.” She went through one final series of motions and the digital image of Natasha fell to the ground. On screen, his own digital double did a really stupid victory dance. “But that's not really setting a good example.”

 

“Not really,” agreed Clint, still watching his character. “Remind me to complain to Tony about how stupid those victory dances look.”

 

“Noted.” Sighing, Darcy dropped onto the couch next to where Clint was perched. For a long moment, she didn't say anything. On the screen, Hawkeye finally stopped doing his stupid dance and the whole image reverted to the menu. Her eyes never left the screen as she spoke. “It wasn't that bad, as far as nightmares go. Well, my nightmares.

 

“I was back in Bellevue, sitting on that hill and watching the circus set up. I could see that kid with his bow practicing easily, but everyone else was fuzzy. Irrelevant. I'm just watching them when the police sirens start up. And then the police were flooding the circus and arresting everyone and that kid with the bow started running towards me. He raced up the hill in plain view of everyone, but the police ignored him like they couldn't see him. He stopped right in front of me, panting and bent over and, when he looked up, it was you standing there with that bow in hand. I reached out to touch you, to help lead you away from the circus, but before I could touch you someone grabbed my hair and started dragging me away. He pulled me rapidly away from you, shouting at me 'You can't touch people, freak. You aren't allowed to touch people. All you'll do is hurt them!'. I fought and fought, but I couldn't get away. Then, the police came out of nowhere and tackled you to the ground, started to beat you...”

 

Shivering, Darcy shot back to her feet suddenly, returning her focus to the selection menu on the screen. She keeps Hawkeye as her character selection and chooses the Hulk as an opponent. “That's when I woke up.”

 

Clint wasn't sure what to say. He really wasn't. The idea that anyone might have a nightmare that involves not being able to help him is...weird. Yeah, he's had a lot of dreams about the people he couldn't save, about not being able to save the ones that matter to him. Phil has been a recurring theme recently and is just as common of a occurrence as Natasha, both before and now. But knowing that Darcy had at least one similar dream about him both makes him sick (because he's part of the cause for her fear) and strangely happy (because it shows she cares at least a little).

 

“That's pretty bad,” stated Clint.

 

Darcy just shrugged as she started going through similar motions as before. On screen, the hulk roared and charged at Hawkeye. “Like I said, it's not as bad as the others, but it's still bad. Normally, there's blood.”

 

“The bloody ones are the worst,” muttered Clint.

 

“Definitely,” agreed Darcy, her motions picking up rapidly as the battle on the screen became more heated.

 

Clint watched the screen silently for a moment before speaking. “Does talking about it help? The dreams, I mean. It never seemed to before.”

 

“It's hard to say,” admitted Darcy. “It helps others understand what's wrong though.”

 

“So, when I do it, it helps you figure out what's bothering me,” reasoned Clint slowly. “Then why'd you agree to tell me?”

 

“Because you needed to hear it,” replied Darcy. She paused the game, turning completely to face Clint. “I've told you that I've been through something similar to what you went through, but someone saying 'I know how you feel' and someone being able to say 'this is what happened to me' are two very different things. The second is more powerful, more reassuring. Plus, I can't expect you to talk to me about what happened to you if I don't give you something in return. Part of the recovery is about finding people you trust to help you though. I don't expect you to trust me blindly, but I do want you to trust me at least enough that you feel like you can talk to me. And the best way to do that, is to show you that I've gone through the same thing you're going through now.”

 

“I do trust you enough to talk to you,” stated Clint, eyes meeting hers. “It's actually easier than I thought it would be. But it's still...”

 

“...hard to start,” finished Darcy with a sigh, kneeling on the couch beside Clint again. She was facing him this time, her arms resting on the back of the couch beside his hip. “Trust me, I know. It's been years since I had to start facing everything, but I remember how hard it was. I wouldn't even talk to Phil about what happened for the first month I lived with him.” Hesitantly, one of her hands reached out to take his. This time though, instead of just her fingers on top of his, she pressed her fingers to his palm and her palm against the back of his hand. “Just talk when you're ready to. I don't expect you to tell me everything at once. Hell, I don't expect you to even tell me everything, period. But I am here to help you discuss whatever you feel you need to discuss.”

 

“Thanks,” muttered Clint, closing his fingers over hers. Gently, he squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

 

“Anytime, Clint,” assured Darcy. “Anytime you need to talk or want to, come find me. I'll make time to listen, no matter what I'm doing. You can't recover from this alone and no one expects you to.”

 

His thumb brushed over her knuckles slowly, stroking the skin. “You know the reverse applies as well, right? If you need to talk about anything, I'm here.”

 

“Thanks,” murmured Darcy quietly, her eyes falling to their hands. “I appreciate that.”

 

Disentangling their fingers, Darcy stood again and unpaused her game once more. Clint silently watched as she started battling the hulk once more. Her motions were fluid, sharp and accurate. It wasn't until the fight was done (with her as the victor) that he spoke. “Do you ever feel like you should have done more to stop yourself? Fought harder against everything you did?”

 

“I used to,” confirmed Darcy. “There was always that voice saying 'you should have fought harder', 'you hurt people and, if you'd just done more, it wouldn't have happened'.” She flicked her wrist, bringing the game back to the main menu again and turned to face Clint once more. “Eventually though, I realized there wasn't much I could have done. At the time, I didn't realize what was happening. Yeah, I knew on some level what I was doing was wrong, but someone was finally showing me kindness. Someone finally wanted me around. And all I wanted was to make that person happy, make them want to keep me around.” She shrugged slightly, looking back at the TV and selecting yet another opponent. She didn't start the game though, opting to refocus on Clint once more. “I was so desperate for that approval, for that hint of love, that I was willing to do anything to keep it.”

 

“So what brought you back?” asked Clint curiously. “'Tasha beat me senseless, but I'm guessing that wouldn't work on you.”

 

“No,” confirmed Darcy quietly. “Phil is the one who brought me out. He was nice to me one night and expected nothing in return. He would talk to me if he saw me, follow me to make sure I was safe, just simple stuff. It- he was able to make me realize what was going on because he'd been nice to me.”

 

“Kindness is it's own tool,” stated Clint. “And it's own weapon.”

 

“Yeah,” sighed Darcy, “I know. Phil used it as a tool to gain my trust and, ultimately, it was for the best. I wouldn't be alive today if he hadn't gotten me out. He's the only person I can think of who ever had my best interest at heart.”

 

Clint nodded slowly, eyes sliding back to the screen. “A lot of guys at S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't think Phil cared about much. They always assumed that just because he didn't let what he was feeling show, he wasn't capable of feeling anything.” His eyes fell to his hands, thumb running over a scar across his knuckles. He remembered how he got it all too well: some cocky jackass had said something nasty about Phil being a robot; Clint had knocked out several of the man's teeth and been suspended for a week. He probably would have been discharged except Natasha had told Fury what happened. It's the only thing that had saved his hide.

 

“Is that from when you punched the man who accused Phil of being a brain-washed, careless robot who saw every agent as replaceable?” asked Darcy, her own eyes staring at his hand and the scar etched into his skin.

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Clint.

 

Darcy smiled a little, reaching out to touch his hand again. This time though, there was less hesitation. Instead, she gently pulled his hand up so she could see the scar for herself. One of her fingers traced the edges for a moment before she brought his knuckles up the rest of the way and kissed the scar. “Thank you.”

 

Well, that was surprising. “Uh, for what?”

 

“Standing up for Phil,” explained Darcy, dropping his hand. “When he told me what happened, I wanted to come to work with him the next day and give you a hug for what you'd done.”

 

Clint chuckled a little. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy, her smile turning sad. “He wouldn't let me because he didn't want me involved in S.H.I.E.L.D., but I still wanted to thank you for that somehow. I ended up getting your address from Fury and sending you a stuff penguin that said 'Thank you' on it.”

 

“Wait, that was you?” asked Clint in surprise. “I always thought that was Phil because the penguin had a Captain America costume.”

 

“I was really into Captain America back then,” confessed Darcy, a bit of a blush crossing her cheeks as she ducked her head.

 

He had to admit, her blush was adorable. It made her look so much younger, it was hard to imagine this was the same woman that could strong-arm Jane around or survive as an intern at Stark Industries. Then again, there were times he'd looked at Phil and been unable to reconcile the man he was seeing with the cool-under-pressure badass ninja of S.H.I.E.L.D. “It's cute, but where did you find it?”

 

“Uh, I kind of made it.” Her admission was quiet, but Clint could hear her clear as day.

 

“Really?” asked Clint, more than a little surprised. He wouldn't have guessed it was hand made. Custom yes; hand made, no. “Wow, you did an amazing job.”

 

“Thanks,” muttered Darcy quietly, blush intensifying.

 

It made him smile a little. One of his hands rose to rub at the back of his neck a little nervously. “Um, not to be weird or anything, but I actually still have it.”

 

Darcy's head snapped up, eyes wide. “Really?”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Clint, a bit of his own blush appearing on his cheeks. “I named him Captain Ameriguin. He lives on my bed, whatever that happens to be at the moment. I even carry him on missions sometimes. Phil usually holds onto him if things are dangerous though. Er-” he paused, realizing the error in what he said. “I guess I mean Phil used to hold onto him for me. Guess I can't take him in the field anymore.”

 

“That's alright,” assured Darcy gently, offering Clint a smile. “I can always watch him for you.”

 

“Bring him to me if I'm in medical or after a bad mission?” asked Clint, the smile returning a little to his face.

 

Darcy's smile turned into a smirk as she stood again, flicking her wrist to start the match. “Only if I get to take pictures of you cuddling a penguin doll in medical.”

 

“I'm pretty sure 'Tasha already has those,” stated Clint. “Phil used to bring it up as a way of getting me to actually _stay_ in medical. But if you want more, go ahead. I'm not ashamed to admit that I like to cuddle.”

 

“Hmm,” hummed Darcy, arm slashing through the air. “So that's how I ended up curled against you earlier.”

 

“Hey!” objected Clint, voice light. He was going to tease her a little; it was the first chance he'd had so far. “Don't pin that on me. You're the one who cuddled up against me.”

 

Darcy froze. Completely froze in the middle of the match. She didn't even pause the game, which meant Loki was able to start beating her character into the ground. It actually made Hawkeye wince. Before he could comment though, she canceled the match and returned the game to it's main screen. “If you want to play, go ahead. I'm going to get some sleep. Goodnight.”

 

Clint watched as Darcy practically ran out of the room, only pausing long enough to grab her S.H.I.E.L.D. sweatshirt. Mentally, he could barely process that she was leaving before she was just gone. _What the hell was that about?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penguin doll is a real project currently lying on the floor of my room.


	9. Tony is a Stalker and Everyones Going on Vacation

“Hey Legalos, have you seen Darcy?” called Tony as he wondered into the gym.

 

Clint paused where he was hanging upside down in the rafters doing curls and glanced at the mad genius. “What do you mean 'have I seen her'? Isn't she at work?”

 

“She was earlier,” confirmed Tony. “But her supervisor said she asked to leave around 2:30. Pep figured she was coming home to shrink your head, but she never came back to tower according to the logs.”

 

Clint felt his blood freeze. Darcy was missing? That couldn't be good. “Have you tried calling her?”

 

Tony gave him a 'no shit' look and shrugged. “She didn't pick up.”

 

“Shit,” muttered Clint. Without much thought, he grabbing the bar he was hanging off of and flipped his legs over his head. Dropping easily to the ground, he darted to where his cellphone was lying on a chair and snatching the device up. A quick scroll through his contracts revealed a problem though. “Tony, what's Darcy's number?”

 

“Seriously?” asked Tony, both eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “You've spent hours with that girl and you don't have her phone number?”

 

“I've never needed to call her,” snapped Clint. “She always just shows up. What is it?”

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “JARVIS, download Darcy Lewis' phone number into the phone assigned to Clint Barton.”

 

“Right away, Sir,” assured Jarvis. On Clint's phone, the message 'new contact added' flashed across the display followed by the name 'Darcy Lewis'. Thank god for Tony's technophilic tendencies.

 

“Thanks Tony,” muttered Clint, immediately hitting 'call'. As he pressed the phone to his ear though, he noted the way Tony was looking at him. “What?”

 

“I already tried calling,” stated Tony. “Why would she-” The click of the phone being answered drew Clint's full attention, prompting him to hold up a hand to Tony.

 

“Hello?” Darcy's voice was calm, even, and a touch curious. No panic what so ever. No signs of danger. In the background, Clint could faintly hear what sounded like shouting children.

 

“Hey,” greeted Clint. “It's Clint.”

 

“Yeah, I kinda recognized your voice,” replied Darcy. “You still have a bit of a drawl.”

 

“Oh...” muttered Clint, not really sure what to say and feeling a little embarrassed.

 

Darcy chuckled a little. “Relax, it's not a bad thing. It's actually kinda reassuring. Phil had it too.”

 

Clint could feel his cheeks heating a little. He'd sworn any trace of his accent had disappeared years ago; apparently he was wrong. “Uh, I vaguely remember that.” Behind him, Tony started snickering. Clint flipped him off, regaining his footing in the conversation. “Tony said he tried to call you earlier but that you didn't pick up.”

 

Tony looked a little hurt. “Really? She answers for you and not me?”

 

“Hey Clint, put the phone on speaker,” requested Darcy.

 

Wondering what the hell she needed the phone on speaker for, Clint lowered the device from his ear (he didn't need any more hearing damage than he'd already sustained) and hit the 'speaker' button on the screen. “Done.”

 

“I'm trying to help Clint with his psychological issues, Tony,” informed Darcy through the phone. How she'd even heard Tony's response, Clint wasn't sure. But apparently, she had. “Of course I'm going to answer the phone when he calls.”

 

“Well, what if I was having a mental breakdown?” asked Tony curiously and with a touch of a pout. “What if I needed psychological assistance of my own?”  
  


“I'm sure Pepper has several house shrinks on speed dial that are qualified to deal with your brand of insanity,” countered Darcy easily. “Because I'm definitely not qualified to deal with what goes on in the twisted mental hospital that is your brain.” Pausing, Clint could hear her cover the mouth piece of the phone and say something to someone else in the room before she spoke to them again. “Look Tony, is there something you needed?”

 

Clint could see from the look on Tony's face there wasn't though. It was pretty obvious the mad genius had just been worried. “No Darce, nothing important.” Taking the phone off speaker, he returned it to his ear. “We were just worried, that's all.”

 

For a moment, silence echoed through the line before Darcy spoke again. “Sorry. I told Nick where I was going, but I guess it just didn't occur to me that I should tell anyone else.”

 

“You told Fury?” asked Clint. That was a surprise. Then again, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had helped rescue Darcy from her old home _and_ presumably helped Phil adopt her. It would make sense that she'd tell him where she was going.

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy. “I always do, now. One time I didn't and between him and Phil, there must have been a hundred people looking for me.” Which probably meant something along the lines of hundreds of S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Clint could see it happening. “Next time, I'll make sure to tell JARVIS, too.”

 

“Thanks,” replied Clint. “It'll help keep our blood pressure down.”

 

There was another pause and Clint could hear the sound of Darcy's footsteps echoing around some kind of confined space. It sounded like a hallway. Her voice was lower when she spoke again, like she was worried about being over-heard. “You guy's don't have to worry about me so much. I promise, I can take care of myself.”

 

“We know,” assured Clint. “Well, I know. I've sparred with you. And the others probably figure you can, with Phil having raised you and all, but we're still gonna worry if you just disappear.”

 

“I'll make sure to check in next time, Mom,” teased Darcy. “Seriously though, I'm gonna go if you don't need anything. I'll be back at the tower tonight.”

 

“Alright, sounds good,” agreed Clint. “I guess we'll see you then.”

 

“Call if you need anything,” ordered Darcy gently. “I'll call when I'm on my way back.”

 

“Thanks,” muttered Clint. “See you later.”

 

“Later.”

 

Clint listened as her phone disconnected, just to make sure, then flipped his own phone shut. “Alright Tony, there. She's not in danger, she's visiting a friend.”

 

“Wonder where she is,” muttered Tony. “Hey JARVIS, where's Darcy's phone currently located?”

 

“I'm uncertain the exact location, Sir,” informed JARVIS. “It appears Miss Lewis is using a device that scrambles the GPS locator in her phone. All I can say is that she is currently in a town an hour east of the city.”

 

“What town?” asked Clint curiously.

 

“Amityville,” replied JARIVS. “Should I look up a listing for either Philip Coulson or Darcy Lewis in the area?”

 

“Read my mind, JARIS,” confirmed Tony.

 

Clint just shook his head. “Really Tony? Do you really need to do that?”

 

“Hey, I'm inquisitive,” defended Tony with a shrug. “Pep says it's enduring.”

 

“Yeah, when you aren't using it to spy on people,” muttered Clint with a shake of his head. Grabbing his towel, he headed for the door of the gym. “Have fun violating her privacy. I'm gonna go shower and pretend like I didn't just witness you acting like a crazy stalker.”

 

Tony just waved at him distractedly. “I'll let you know what the results are, Legalos.”

 

* * *

 

The ding of the elevator drew Clint's attention from the living room, prompting him to sit up and look over the edge of the couch in an attempt to see who was coming in. Pepper, Natasha, and Steve were all gathered in the kitchen, possibly plotting; Tony, Jane, and Bruce were debating science in the corner of the living room, with occasional flailing from Jane and wild gesturing from Tony. Personally, Clint was sacked out on the couch with Thor watching football and attempting to explain the sport to the alien god. However, Thor seemed more interested in watching the players ram each other than the actual game. Clint was considering introducing him to Rugby next.

 

Darcy stepped into the living room a moment after the elevator doors opened, still in her work clothes and looking exhausted. Then again, to Clint's knowledge, she hadn't gone back to bed after he apparently scared her off last night. Plus, Amityville wasn't exactly down the block.

 

“Hey Darce,” greeted Clint, waving at her over the edge of the couch.

 

“Hey Clint,” returned Darcy with a tired sigh, changing directions from the kitchen to the couch. Stopping behind it, she offered him a weary smile. “What's up?”

 

“Just introducing Thor to the glory that is football,” replied Clint, offering her a grin. Whatever had spooked her last night wasn't apparently enough to make her stop talking to him, but there was a nervousness around her that made him a bit worried. “How was your friend's place?”

  
“Good,” muttered Darcy, her eyes shifting to Thor, who was completely absorbed in the game on the screen. “So, does he like it?”

 

“He seems to.” Clint glanced over at Thor for a moment, just to make sure there was no furniture flying, before refocusing on Darcy. That was when he caught a whiff of something that smelled absolutely amazing. Hoisting himself up completely, he glanced over the edge of the couch. Darcy had a bag in her hand, which Clint could only assume was the source of the smell. “What's that?”

 

“Hm?” asked Darcy. She held up the bag. “You mean this?”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Clint. “What is that? It smells amazing.”

 

Darcy chuckled a little and drew a Tupperware container out of the bag. “They're cookies, secret family recipe. I made them with my friend earlier.” Crumpling the bag, she popped the lid off the container and offered it to Clint. “Want one?”

 

“Definitely,” replied Clint, grabbing one of the balls out of the container. Without much thought, he popped it into his mouth. The flavors of chocolate, rum, and caramel struck him immediately, almost making him moan. Seriously, those were good. “Wow Darce, what are those?”

 

“They're kinda like rum balls, but in cookie form,” explained Darcy, putting the lid back on the container. “Phil taught me to make them.”  
  


“They're amazing,” stated Clint. Offering her a grin, he leaned up over the back of the couch. “Any way you'd share the recipe?”

 

Shaking her head, Darcy headed towards the kitchen with a chuckle. “Not a chance. We'd have a fat, useless archer on our hands if I did.”

 

“Hey!” objected Clint, hopping over the back of the couch and following her. “I work hard to keep myself in shape. Besides, Phil was in good shape and he knew how to make those.”

 

“Yeah, and he had good self control,” argued Darcy, setting the container on the counter and popping off the lid again. “Let everyone else have one.”

 

Clint pouted a little, leaning on the island. “Fine...”

 

“Welcome back, Darcy,” greeted Pepper, offering the intern a smile. “Did yo have a good trip?”

 

“Yeah, I did,” confirmed Darcy, heading for the fridge and grabbing a beer. Flicking off the cap, she sipped at it as she walked back over to where Clint was leaning on the counter and hopped up onto the stool beside him. “I was actually thinking about spending the weekend up there, away from the city.” Looking at Clint directly, she added: “And, I was thinking all of you might want to come along.”

 

“All of us?” repeated Pepper in surprise.

 

Darcy shrugged slightly. “Yeah, everyone. Avengers, you, Jane, everyone. It's nice to get away from the city every once in a while.”

 

“That's nice of you, Darce, but where would we stay? We can't exactly crash at your friend's place,” pointed out Clint.

 

The look Darcy gave him clearly said she thought he was crazy. “Phil had a house out there. It's where we lived when I was in high school. When he-” her voice caught a little on 'he', forcing her to pause for a second and clear her throat. “After everything went down, the house became mine. I just thought it might be nice to stay there again. It's three bedrooms plus a pullout sofa. We have air mattresses too that Phil and I would sleep on when we went camping.” She shrugged a little again, picking at some fleck of invisible dirt on the counter. “It's not much, but I figured I'd make the offer if anyone wanted to join me.”

 

Clint didn't hesitate before answering. “Definitely. It sounds like fun.”

 

“Getting out of the city does sound relaxing,” admitted Steve. “No matter how long I'm around all this noise, I never get used to it and I don't mind sleeping on the ground.”

 

“Well, I mean, someone could-” again, her voice caught a little and forced her to halt her words. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried again. “Someone could sleep in Phil's room, too.”

 

Silently, Pepper reached out and lay a hand on Darcy's shoulder. Clint saw her flinch slightly at the touch, but not shy away. “I don't think anyone would do that, Darcy, but it's kind of you to offer. It does sound like fun though. I've never selpt on an air mattress and I can garentee that Tony hasn't either.”

 

“I'm sure no one would argue if you wanted to take the guest room,” objected Darcy. “And I- I know Phil wouldn't want his room to become some kind of shrine. He wouldn't mind if you used his bed.”

 

“I know he wouldn't,” agreed Pepper, squeezing Darcy's shoulder gently before releasing it. “That's just the kind of person Phil was. But it will bother _you,_ and I know Phil would never want that.”

 

“Thank you,” thanked Darcy. “But, really, it's alright. Promise.”

 

“You know, this would be a good chance for us to spend some quality time together as a team,” pointed out Steve. “I mean, not that we should make this about the team or anything. It's supposed to be a weekend to relax, but I mean, it could be a good opportunity.”

 

“Yeah,” agreed Darcy, offering Steve a small smile. “It would be good to see how you guys interact.”

 

“For Clint's sake?” wondered Natasha aloud. “I'm relatively certain you can observe that here, though Clint does have the tendency to disappear here.”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy, running one hand through her hair and looking back up at the rest of the room. “It would be a bonus to corner him in an environment without air vents to hide in. Honestly though, I just- I need to get out of the city and I figured everyone could probably use a break. If you want to turn it into a team building weekend or something like that, you can. It would be good for all of you. I just know I need to go home for a bit though, regardless of what the rest of you do.”

 

“Darce?” asked Clint worriedly. “What's wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” assured Darcy quickly. Too quickly for Clint's liking. He could tell she was lying, he just didn't know why. “I just, like I said, I need to get away.”

 

Natasha nodded, folding her arms across her torso. “Then that's what will happen. I'm sure Jane and Bruce will agree.”

 

“And I'll handle Tony,” stated Pepper. “When did you want to leave?”

 

Darcy shrugged a bit. “I'll probably throw a bag in the trunk of my car and leave tomorrow after work. I can give you guys the address and a key, that way you can go up whenever you want.”

 

“No, we wouldn't intrude like that,” argued Clint. “Pepper, is there any way Darcy could leave at noon?”

 

“No,” insisted Darcy firmly. “I already feel bad enough that I left early today, I don't want to cut my workday short tomorrow. That's not fair to anyone and that's not what you expect of me.”

 

Pepper nodded slowly, mind clearly working. “How about this: what if I gave the entire department half a day off? You're in the PR division, it's a Friday tomorrow, I don't see why we can't give everyone there a half day. Nothing that division is working on is due until well into next week. That way, you can leave at noon without any guilt and all of us can ride up together. Or at least in a caravan.”

 

“That could work,” admitted Darcy quietly. “If you're sure about giving everyone time off, that is.”

 

“It's always good to do something nice every once in a while,” stated Pepper with a shrug. “So, we'll all get lunch tomorrow and leave after that for Amityville. Does that sound good?”

 

“That sounds good,” confirmed Darcy with a yawn. Rubbing her eyes, she stood up straight and grabbed her beer. “I'm sorry to bolt like this, but I'm really tired.”

 

“That's fine, Darcy,” assured Pepper with a smile. “Have a good night and we'll see you tomorrow.”

 

Yawning again, Darcy nodded and waved to the others as she left the kitchen. “Night.”

 

Silently, Clint watched her leave the room. The idea of spending the weekend in her _good_ childhood home was both appealing and scary. He wanted to know more about her, not just because he felt like he could connect with her but because she truly interested him. But he could admit that he was afraid too: afraid that he'd scare her away with his many scars; afraid that he'd say or do the wrong thing. Being in a confined space with her for an entire weekend, even with the others around, worried him a little. He just hoped that at the end of the weekend, everything would still be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amityville was a random selection like Bellevue was. And yes, I know about the toaster (for those who don't get it, see the Foamy rants). The toaster will make an appearance.
> 
> Alternatively (because my brain is evil with a capital E), would anyone be interested in a series of shorts based on the S.H.I.E.L.D. Recruit Survival Tips?


	10. Car Rides, Grocery Trips, and Old Friends to Boot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more talking, a little more information, and a few more ridiculous stunts curtsey of the Avengers. Sorry this is a bit of a filler chapter. I'm trying not to rush through either Darcy and Clint's growing relationship or Clint's issues. Also, I really hate jumping from point A to point B without having some kind of transition.

“So how do we want to split up?” asked Pepper as everyone gathered in the garage of Stark Tower. There were two cars parked in the garage: one was a van that Clint guessed was a rental (Darcy had nixed any kind of limo, citing that she didn't feel like making a scene in her old neighborhood) and the other was a black 1965 Mustang. He was guessing the Mustang belonged to Darcy, though it could be Tony's too; the man loved his cars way too much.

 

“Who's Mustang?” asked Tony. “I wanna go in that car.”

 

“Mine,” stated Darcy as she tossed a bag in the trunk. “Phil and I rebuilt the engine when I took shop.”

 

“Nice,” muttered Tony. “You're taking it up there?”

 

“It's the only car I own,” replied Darcy with a shrug.

 

Clint's brow furrowed a little. “What's 'shop'?”

 

“High school class based in mechanics like car repair,” explained Darcy with a shrug. “It was that or home economics and that class wasn't going to teach me anything new.”

 

“Seriously? How do you not know what shop class is?” asked Tony with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Circus raised,” reminded Clint with a roll of his eyes. “I didn't go to high school. No TV either.”

 

“Geez,” muttered Tony. “You really were deprived as a kid, weren't you?”

 

The sound of a trunk snapping firmly shut cut through the garage, causing Tony to jump a little. Glancing at Darcy, Clint actually wanted to shy away from the glare she had trained on their socially obnoxious college. “Can we please not discuss deprived childhoods? Clint's not the only one with one of those.”

 

Tony at least had the decency to look ashamed of what he'd said. Then again, it could have been a reflex to the look Pepper was giving him, too. “Uh, sorry.”

 

“Anyway,” cut in Pepper. “Does anyone want to go with Darcy, or are we all just piling into the van?”

 

“I will,” offered Clint before Tony could reply. He'd seen the way Tony had been eying the car longingly and, damn it, call him selfish but he wanted to ride up with her. Looking at Darcy, he realized she hadn't said a word. “If she wants company, that is.”  
  


Darcy just shrugged. “If you want to ride with me, you can. I'm not objecting. Just be prepared for a lot of classic rock.”

 

“Seriously?” asked Jane doubtfully. “You and classic rock? Everything I've heard from your iPod sounds like it was made in the last ten years.”

 

“I always listen to classic rock when I'm driving,” explained Darcy. “It feels wrong to listen to anything else when driving a classic car.”

 

“I like 80's music,” stated Clint with a shrug. “Blare away.”

 

The smirk that spread across Darcy's lips made Clint shiver. That couldn't be a good sign. “You shouldn't have said that.” Going around to the drivers side, she popped the trunk again. “Now throw your bag in and lets get this show on the road. I need to still stop and get groceries on the way into town.”

 

“Yes ma'am,” replied Clint with a sketchy salute. Grabbing his duffel from the pile of luggage sitting beside the van (seriously, it was two days; how much clothing did Pepper, Natasha, and Tony need?), he dropped it in beside Darcy's own small bag and carefully closed the lid. “Does the latch do anything funny?”

 

“Nope,” assured Darcy. “If it doesn't pop immediately back up, it's closed.”

 

“Then just give us five minutes to get everything into the trunk and we'll head out,” stated Pepper with a smile before she started to lift one of her bags into the van. Thor stopped her though, taking the bag from her and dropping it into the trunk before loading the other bags rapidly. “Um, never mind. I guess we can leave now then.” Shutting the trunk quickly before Thor could (they didn't need the rental damaged), she motioned for everyone to get in before turning back to Darcy with a smile. “Lead the way.”

 

“Right,” replied Darcy, slipping into the drivers seat of the Mustang.

 

Clint nearly hopped into the passenger seat, giddy at the idea of taking any kind of road trip in this car. He loved Mustangs almost as much as Tony (though he'd never admit it). Looking around the cab of the car, he whistled. “Wow, did you redo the inside too?”

 

“Everything,” confirmed Darcy as she started the car. The engine purred as it rolled over. “It took us over a year, but we'd finished by the time I had my drivers license.” Shifting into gear, she pulled carefully out of the space and maneuvered them onto the street.

 

“Did you learn to drive in her?” asked Clint, still focused on trying to take everything in.

 

“No,” sighed Darcy sadly. “I wish. Phil made me learn to drive in a S.H.I.E.L.D. sedan.”

 

“Better than what I learned to drive in,” muttered Clint, running a hand carefully across the dash. “This car beautiful.”

 

“Thanks,” replied Darcy, a smile tugging at her lips. One of her hands reached out to pat the dash. “She's my baby in a way.”

 

Grinning, Clint reached for the radio and flipped it on. “So, you promised classic rock.”

 

“Yep,” agreed Darcy, cranking up the volume a little. The beginning cords of Boston's 'Rock and Roll Band' started to filter through the car. “I did.”

 

For a while, all they did was listen to the radio. Classic songs filled the comfortable silence, easing any tension that might have otherwise been there. Not that Clint really thought their trip would be uncomfortable.

 

He split his time between relaxing and glancing back at the van were the others were. Jane was driving, which may or may not have been a bad thing given her propensity for running over Gods (or at least Thor). He couldn't see much more, other than Bruce's presence in the passenger seat (likely an attempt to keep Tony from harassing him too much) and the occasional flying object that would pass from the back and strike the front window.

 

“Are they killing each other yet?” asked Darcy, startling Clint a little.

 

“I can't tell,” admitted Clint, turning his focus back on Darcy. “How did you know I was watching them?”

 

The sideways look she shot him said he was clearly an idiot. “Why else would you be intently staring at the rear-view mirror?”

 

“Point,” admitted Clint with a grin. “I could have been looking for signs we were being tailed.”

 

“But Clint, we are being tailed,” pointed out Darcy. “Jane's following us.”

 

Clint rolled his eyes a little. “You know what I meant.”

 

“Yeah, I do,” admitted Darcy, reaching out to fiddle with the radio as the station turned to static. They were out of the city now, cruising down the road at an easy speed. “I kinda wish they weren't following us so I could get some speed out here.”

 

“Maybe on our way back?” suggested Clint hopefully. He really wanted to know the kind of power this car had.

 

“Maybe,” agreed Darcy. Changing lanes to move around a slow car, she gunned the engine a little. The sound was music to Clint's ears. “Don't get anything on my seats. I know this car is hot, and it's reduced more than one man to a jelly-legged quivering mass, but I refuse to put up with jizz on my seats.”

 

“Wait, what?” asked Clint. “What are you-”

 

Darcy just rolled her eyes again. “Your face, you looked ready to explode when I gunned the engine a little.”

 

“Sorry,” muttered Clint, his cheeks reddening.

 

“Don't be,” replied Darcy with a touch of a smile. “I was teasing you.” Keeping the car in the new lane while she was waiting for Jane to catch up, Darcy took the moment to actually look at Clint. “Are you going to be alright this weekend?”

 

Clint's brow furrowed a little. “Uh, I was planning to be. Why?”

 

“Because you don't trust yourself still and you don't think anyone else trusts you, either,” reasoned Darcy. “And we're all going to be in one normal sized house for two days.”

 

“I'll be fine,” assured Clint, frowning slightly. “It's you I'm worried about. You never did explain the sudden need to come up here.”

 

“That's because it's personal,” explained Darcy.

 

Nodding slowly, Clint leaned forward a little in his seat and turned his full focus on Darcy. “Wanna explain the reason?”

 

Sighing, Darcy changed lanes again. “Honestly? I- I haven't really had time to grieve.” The admission was quiet and surprising. She was one of the last people Clint would have suspected of suppressing her emotions. “I tried to make time, but everything just happened too fast. Jane and I were in Norway, then we weren't. New York was just barely not a smoking crater. Then there was the funeral, classes I had to finish and finals to take, I- I had to finish the paperwork to get my degree. I just...either consciously or subconsciously I've been too busy to actually absorb everything that happened.”

 

Shaking her head slightly, her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I still keep expecting him to just call me out of the blue to check on me or I keep reaching for the phone to call him and I have to stop myself because I know it won't go through.” Sighing, she checked her rear view mirror to make sure the others were still following, then flipped on her blinker. “I just need to get away from the city and back to someplace quiet. It didn't even occur to me until I was back in town yesterday how much I've been putting it off.”

 

“Are you sure you really want us around?” asked Clint quietly, brow furrowing with worry. “We aren't exactly quiet.”

 

“No,” agreed Darcy. “But having others around will help keep me grounded. I need time to absorb what happened; that doesn't mean I can't have my friend's around while I do it.”

 

“Long as you're sure,” muttered Clint with a shake of his head. “The last thing I want is to cause you trouble.”

 

“Worst case scenario, I gag Tony with duct tape after sending Pepper and Jane to a local spa,” stated

Darcy, a touch of a smile on her face. Her voice was shifted back to normal, loosing some of the shake it previously had. “They're the only two who might object to that.”

 

“Key word: might,” agreed Clint, glancing at the rear-view mirror again. Something flew against the front window of the van behind them, bouncing into Bruce's lap. He didn't even glance at the object, just chucked it back over his shoulder. “I'm pretty sure Bruce won't object.”

 

“I packed plenty of duct tape for Bruce's sake, don't worry,” assured Darcy, voice more normal now. “Wouldn't want the Hulk to destroy the house.”

 

Nodding, Clint continued to watch the van. “I wonder if home-owners insurance covers destruction due to a Hulk-out.”

 

Darcy shrugged a little. “I doubt it. Probably qualifies as an 'act of god'.”

 

“So we've just got to keep Thor from destroying the house, got it,” replied Clint, eyes still on the van. Another object flew from the back seats into the front, this time beaning Bruce in the side of the head. He tensed for a moment, worried they might actually have an emergency before they even reached the town, but the irritated scientist just confiscated the object. “I'm almost afraid to know what they're tossing around in there.”

 

“A bean-bag?” suggested Darcy. “It's the type of thing Tony would do.”

 

“Maybe,” muttered Clint. Taking his eyes off the van, he returned his focus to the scenery around them. “It's beautiful out here.”

 

A touch of a smile pulled at the corners of Darcy's lips. “That's part of why I like coming out here. Something about this area is soothing.”

 

“I can see that,” remarked Clint. Houses were beginning to appear in tighter clusters again, indicating they were entering a more populated area. “Do we need to stop at the grocery store before we reach the house?”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy. “There's no food there what so ever. Can you call Bruce and tell him? We're gonna hit the store nearest the house, but it's still a few blocks away.”

 

“I'm on it,” stated Clint as he pulled out his phone and selected Bruce's number.

 

The scientist picked up on the second ring. “Is there a problem, Clint?”

 

“No,” assured Clint quickly. “Nothing's wrong, but Darcy says we're hitting a grocery store before we head to the house.”

 

“Alright, hang on,” replied Bruce. “Jane, we're stopping at the grocery store first.” There was a pause as someone shouted something from the back of the van before Bruce spoke again. “Thor wants to know if we can get poptarts.”

 

Clint nodded. “I'm sure we can do that. Make a list of requests and text it to me. I'll talk with Darcy about it.”

 

“That sounds good,” agreed Bruce. “I'll get you the list shortly. Does Darcy want us all to wait in the car while she runs in?”

 

“Yes!” shouted Darcy, apparently having heard Bruce's question. Clint raised an eyebrow in response to her vehement response. “They know me here and the last thing I need is the Avengers running amok in the local grocery store. Tony'd probably just buy the whole place because he can.”

 

“Probably,” agreed Clint, shaking his head. “Did you hear her, Bruce?”

 

“I think the people in the next county heard her,” called Jane through the phone. “We aren't that bad.”

 

“Some of you are!” shouted back Darcy.

 

Clint just rolled his eyes and hit the speaker button. “It's on speaker, you can stop shouting.”

 

“That's alright Darcy,” assured Pepper. Apparently, Bruce had the same idea as Clint. “We can wait in the car.”

 

“This really won't take long,” insisted Darcy. “I just need to pick up a few fresh things and some basics.”

 

“Is Clint going in with you?” mocked Tony from what sounded like somewhere in the back seat.

 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Yes, because he's actually _well behaved_ in public.”

 

“Hey! I'm well behaved when I want to be!” argued Tony with a bit of a pouty tone. A collective groan from everyone else in the van came through the line clearly. “What? I am!”

 

“Tony, be quiet,” ordered Pepper. Clint could almost hear the eye-roll in her voice. “We'll wait in the car, Darcy.”

 

“Thank you,” thanked Darcy. “Just send any requests to Clint. We'll pick them up.”

 

The line clicked as Bruce hung up the phone, though Clint could hear the beginning of what sounded like shouting inside the van. Not for the first time on this trip, he was grateful to be in the car with Darcy. Sighing, he pushed a hand through his hair. “You know, there's going to be a lot of alcohol on that list.”

 

“I know,” sighed Darcy, turning them onto a main street lined with houses.

 

A ping from Clint's phone drew his attention. It was a text from Bruce, listing the food and drink requests of everyone in the van behind them. Three more dings told him it was a very long list.

 

“How much of it is alcohol?” asked Darcy wearily, clearly a little concerned.

 

“Not as much as I expected,” admitted Clint. “Maybe half?”

 

Darcy nodded. “Better than I was expecting. What's on it?”

 

Scrolling through the text, Clint began to name items. “We've got poptarts, coffee, vodka, probably for 'Tasha, lots of very expensive sounding things I can only assume are alcohol, bottled water, cheese-its-”

 

“Cheese-its?” repeated Darcy with a raised eyebrow. “Who's that for?”

 

“I'm guessing Steve,” remarked Clint. “He's always the one to eat them when someone does bring them into the house.” Shaking his head, he continued: “Let's see, there's also two dozen eggs-”

 

“Also Steve,” stated Darcy with a smile. “That man eats way too many eggs. His cholesterol is going to be through the roof when he's old.”

 

Clint's own smile pulled at his lips. “I'm not sure Steve can _get_ high cholesterol with the way his metabolism works.”

 

“So jealous of that,” muttered Darcy. “It's not fair.”

 

“No, it's not,” agreed Clint with a shake of his head. “Let's see...that looks like the end of it. Oh, frozen cookie dough.”

 

“We aren't getting that,” stated Darcy firmly. “I might not have gotten a normal childhood until I was 10, but I did learn that cookies are only good when you make them yourself.”

 

Immediately, Clint perked up. “Are you gonna make more of those cookies you brought back? Please?”

 

“Sure,” laughed Darcy. “I'll make a double batch.”

 

“Yes!” cheered Clint, causing Darcy to laugh harder. “If you didn't flinch every time someone touched you, I'd hug you!”

 

“Good to know you respect my boundaries,” remarked Darcy with a shake of her head. They both fell silent for a moment, content to listen to the music.

 

The road had become more and more suburban as they drove, with sparse houses turning into neighborhoods and finally emptying them into a neat little downtown area. It was all very small-town, but it worked.

 

“For the record, I don't mind it as much when you touch me.” Darcy's voice was quiet with a touch of a shake; like that admission was hard for her to accept, much less admit. “Just, FYI.”

 

Her admission made Clint's chest flood with warmth. He'd already determined that part of her phobia of touch came from her past; he'd been the same way still at her age. The fact that she wasn't as uncomfortable when he touched her meant she trusted him. _She probably shouldn't, but that someone does is...nice._ Even Natasha had exerted caution around him since the mind-control thing and she was his partner.

 

“Thank you,” murmured Clint.

 

Darcy's brow furrowed. “For what?”

 

“For telling me that,” replied Clint, offering her a smile. “For trusting me.”

 

Her own smile was faint but solid, if not a touch uneasy. “It's the truth.”

 

She turned the car into a parking lot then, sliding easily into a space. The sign on the building read: 'Greener Grocers'. Clint glanced in the rear-view mirror, double checking that the others had followed them into the parking lot, and climbed out of the car with Darcy.

 

He'd barely shut the door before the sliding door on the side of the van popped open and Steve nearly stumbled out of the van. He was followed by Thor, who banged his head on the way out, and Natasha, who looked ready to murder someone. Bruce climbed out of the front seat with more ease than the others had, Jane popping out the other side and stretching out her back. Pepper and Tony were the last two to climb out, both looking a little rumpled.

 

“That's a longer ride than I thought it would be,” muttered Tony, popping his back. “Alternatively, I am never traveling in anything that isn't my limo again. Well, unless it's one of my sports cars. Then I will.”

 

Darcy just rolled her eyes. “Any other last minute requests before we go in?”

 

“No, I think what we said before was everything,” assured Pepper. “Do you need money or-”

 

“I'm good, Pepper,” assured Darcy. “This won't take long. Clint?” Turning to him, she cocked an eyebrow. “Can you help me?”

 

“No problem,” agreed Clint, following her as she walked into the store.

 

Inside, the store was bigger than Clint had been expecting. The floor plan was relatively open, with short aisles and lower shelves that let Clint actually see a fair distance around the store. It definitely made him feel less confined.

 

Grabbing a cart, Darcy started moving around the store. Clint followed silently, watching her. It was a little strange for him to see her in such a mundane environment. Normally, when he saw her, they were talking and there was nothing normal about what happened. But everyone had to get groceries, including the adopted children of super ninjas.

 

“Is there anything I can grab?” asked Clint curiously as he watched Darcy drop various things in the cart.

 

“If you want to grab the stuff the others requested, that would be great,” replied Darcy, offering him a smile. “Just don't get any of the obnoxiously expensive alcohol, assuming you can even find it here. This isn't exactly the kind of place that sells vodka with gold flakes in it or whatever Tony has on there.”

 

“No extremely expensive alcohol, got it,” chuckled Clint as headed towards an aisle that was labeled 'breakfast food'. “I'll leave the alcohol in your care.”

 

Scanning the various labels, he quickly located the pop-tarts and grabbed ten boxes. He'd seen Thor eat more pop-tarts in one setting than should be possible for anything, including an alien. Hopefully Jane would be able to distract the god so he didn't eat all of the boxes at once. Some of his teammates appetites were truly frightening.

 

Heading back to where Darcy last was, Clint lost his grip on one of the boxes. Stumbling to grab it, he was momentarily distracted enough that he bumped right into someone. “Oh, sorry.”

 

A young woman blinked back at him with startled green eyes. She had almost artificial looking red hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun and he could see one white ear-bud tucked into the front of her shirt. The other was nestled in her right ear. After a moment of staring, she smiled and took several of the boxes from the top of his pile. “It's alright. You really should get a cart if you're going to buy this much though.”

 

“My friend has the cart,” replied Clint, shifting everything around so he could take the fallen boxes back.

 

The woman just rolled her eyes and shifted the boxes out of his reach. “At least let me help you until you find your friend. Where did you last see him?”

 

“Her,” corrected Clint with a sigh. He wasn't going to argue at this point. “She was down the aisle with all the baking stuff last.”

 

“Pop-tarts and baking, hmm,” hummed the woman. “Your friend doesn't happen to be a girl from around here named Darcy, does she?”

 

“You know Darcy?” asked Clint, clearly startled.

 

The woman laughed. “Everyone around here knows Darcy and her father, Mr. Lewis. They're two of the nicest people you'll ever meet. Mr. Lewis used to teach a self-defense class at the community center before Darcy went to college and Darcy was head of the debate team and started the local 'Youth in Government' group for the high school.”

 

Well, that hadn't been what Clint was expecting. He hadn't thought anyone would know Phil or Darcy. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents coveted their anonymity and Darcy seemed like she was the same way. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, but you'd never hear either of them say anything about it,” remarked the woman. “They were the 'keep silent about your achievement' types.” Grinning at Clint again, the woman added: “I'm Mary, by the way.”

 

“Clint,” supplied Clint. “So, were you a friend of Darcy's in high school?”

 

Mary's lips tilted up a little in an 'it's complicated' slant. “Darcy didn't really _have_ friends in high school, honestly. I was the closest thing she had to a friend, but she always threw herself into her school work and never talked much about her life.” Dropping her voice, Mary added: “Truthfully, I think she was adopted out of a bad situation.”

 

“Why?” asked Clint, keeping his voice neutral. He couldn't imagine Darcy would have said much to anyone about her previous life if she'd barely told anyone on the team.

 

“Little things,” admitted Mary with a shrug. “All the photos I saw of her were from when she was about ten onwards, she had this whole 'no touching' thing going on, just general stuff. Plus, she freaked out really badly once when two guys were messing around in the hallway and one of the guys threw a playful punch at his friend but missed. He almost hit Darcy as she was walking by and she totally flipped out. Mr. Lewis had to come get her from school.” Shrugging, Mary was careful to keep her voice. “I think she was abused at some point. I never asked, but the signs were there.”

 

Clint nodded slowly, keeping his face neutral. He wasn't going to give anything away that Darcy had told him. “You seem pretty observant.”

 

“My parents are psychologists,” explained Mary quietly. “I never told Darcy, but my mom's specialty is working with abuse victims. I know my mom spoke with Mr. Lewis about it once, but she didn't tell me what he said.” She shrugged. “It didn't matter really, Darcy's a good person. I mean, she really wants to be an international lawyer in the criminal courts so she can make a difference on the global scale. Not a lot of kids decide that when they're in high school.”

 

“She'll make a good one,” stated Clint. “At least, from what I've seen.”

 

Mary grinned. “Then you've seen the same thing as everyone else.”

 

Turning down the baking aisle, Clint spotted Darcy immediately. Mainly because Steve was standing in front of her looking sheepish. Glancing quickly around, he spotted Pepper at the other end of the store. This couldn't be good.

 

“Hey Darcy,” called Mary, smiling when the brunette woman turned towards them. “I found your boyfriend juggling boxes in the breakfast aisle and offered him a hand. Hope you don't mind.”

 

Darcy shrugged, returning Mary's smile with her own. It was only the amount of time that Clint had spent around her that let him know it was fake. If Mary knew though, she didn't seem put-off.

 

“Hey Mary,” greeted Darcy, nodding at them. “Thanks for helping him out.”

 

“No problem,” replied Mary, dropping the boxes in the cart. “So you decided to come down for the weekend, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy. “It seemed like the right time.”

 

Mary nodded, turning her attention on Steve. “And who's this?”

 

“This is Steve,” introduced Darcy. “He's one of Clint's coworkers and a friend.”

 

“Geez, can I come work with you?” asked Mary, her eyes taking in Steve's body. “If your coworkers look like that, I'll switch fields.”

 

“But you love psychology,” remarked Darcy with a grin. “All those troubled minds just waiting for your input on their lives.”

 

“Please,” snorted Mary. “Until I get a PhD, I don't get to deal with more than chronic bed-wetters and people with bad communication skills.”

 

“How's that going, anyway?” asked Darcy as she pulled more things off the shelves. The grocery cart was pretty full as things were. Clint could see Steve's eggs poking out of the bottom.

 

“Eh, it's going,” replied Mary with a shrug. “What about you? Last I heard, you had an internship with a scientist in the middle of nowhere New Mexico.”

 

“I'm interning at SI now,” admitted Darcy. “In the PR department.”

 

“Seriously?” asked Mary, eyes going wide. “That's amazing.” Glancing around, she dropped her voice again. “Have you told Sherry? She'll flip.”

 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Sherry was a bitch in high school, but I'm not, nor was I ever, competing with her. Besides, I haven't decided if I'm going to accept the permanent position I've been offered or not.”

 

“What?” exclaimed Mary, eyes going wide. “At SI? Why wouldn't you?”

 

“I have another offer,” replied Darcy with a shrug. “It's with an national peace-keeping organization but they do a lot of international work. It could give me a way into international law.”

 

“That sounds like a better gig,” observed Mary. “Why not take that one?”

 

“It's still not law,” explained Darcy. “It's with the same organization my dad works for. Er, worked.”

 

“Oh god, did he get fired?” asked Mary, her eyes going wide. “You can't take a position at a company that fired your dad. That would be horrible for him.”

 

“No, he wasn't fired.” Shaking her head, Darcy dropped her voice. Clint could hear the shake in it as she spoke. “I don't want this all over town Mary, but he died during the battle in New York.” Her voice nearly broke Clint's heart; he really just wanted to draw her into a tight hug and not let go. And from the look on Steve's face, he was feeling the same way.

 

“Oh god,” whispered Mary, tears welling up in her eyes. “Darcy that's horrible.”

 

“Yeah,” agreed Darcy, nodding. “It wasn't expected, that's for sure.”

 

“Is that why you haven't been back?” asked Mary. “We were all wondering why no one had seen either of you even though it was summer. I mean, your dad wasn't a surprise because he wasn't around much when you were gone, but we'd all expected you to come back for at least a little while.”

 

“It's part of it,” replied Darcy. “A lot of it is that I've just not had the time and not been able to bring myself to come back.”

 

Mary shook her head and looked like she wanted to hug Darcy as well. She didn't though. “God Darcy. Well, if you need anything, I'm here. Just, you know, pick up the phone or come over.”

 

“I will,” agreed Darcy, rubbing just one of her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Thanks.” Sighing, she glanced at the cart for a moment before offering Mary a smile. “Look, I'm sorry to have to do this, but I really need to get going.”

 

“Of course,” agreed Mary instantly. “You've got friends here and I'm sure you want to get home. Take it easy Darcy, and I won't say anything.”

 

“Thank you,” sighed Darcy. “I'll eventually make the announcement but I just can't deal with it right now.”

 

“I understand,” assured Mary, waving at Steve a little. “It was nice to meet you, Steve. Seriously Darcy, I want to come work with you. I'm sure SI could use a good shrink.”

 

“Stark needs one,” agreed Darcy. “He's a few cards short of a full deck.”

 

“Just a few?” snorted Clint. “Try half the deck. He tried to build working x-ray glasses while drunk the other night and somehow blew up half his workshop.”

 

“It sounds crazy,” sighed Mary. If she was feeling wistful or relieved that she didn't have to deal with the chaos, it was hard to tell. “Also, Darcy, you are seriously lucky. And you completely deserve it. Anyway, have fun with your friends and try to remember to call once in a while. Okay?”

 

“Alright,” agreed Darcy, offering Mary an actual smile. “I'll try. Have a good day, Mary.”

 

“You too,” replied Mary before she walked out of the aisle.

 

When she was out of sight, Clint turned to Steve. “Steve, why did you come in? And why is Pepper in here?”

 

“Yeah, why?” asked Darcy, turning to the super-soldier as well. “I thought you guys were waiting outside.”

 

“We were,” sighed Steve, one hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “But Tony kinda distracted us for a moment and slipped inside and we've just been trying to find him before he does anything, well...”

 

“Anything Tony?” tried Clint as Darcy groaned beside him and muttered something about her anonymity going out the window.

 

“Pretty much,” confirmed Steve.

 

“What does that even mean?” Tony cut in, wondering into the aisle like he owned the place. “'Do anything Tony'.”

 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “He's referring to the random ass stunts you tend to pull. I thought you were waiting outside.”

 

“I got bored,” replied Tony with a shrug. “Thought I'd come check the place out. Are you sure this is a grocery store? They don't even have good scotch here.”

 

“Positive,” growled Darcy as she started pushing the cart out of the aisle. “Now if you're going to come along, then come. Otherwise, wait outside.”

 

“Yes mommy,” mocked Tony, though he started following none the less. Then he shouted loudly enough for the whole store to hear. “Hey! Where do you guys keep the good booze around here?”

 

Clint was drawn between shuttering and groaning. He just hoped he'd never hear Tony call Darcy 'mommy' again. Something about it was strangely perverted. A glance at Steve told him the super-soldier was thinking the same thing.

 

“That was disturbing,” remarked Clint dryly as he started after Darcy and Tony.

 

Steve nodded, following with a mutter. “Disturbing is one word for it.”


	11. Houses, Sleeping Arguments, and Tears

“So, how far are we?” asked Clint curiously as he turned his attention away from the window to where Darcy was driving.

 

Everyone had finally left the grocery about ten minutes prior, after corralling Thor and Tony back into the car. They'd finished their shopping and checked out, only to realize that Thor had disappeared some time between Tony entering the store and them herding him back outside. Darcy had found him quickly, luckily, and managed to lure him back outside with promises of cookies. Who knew the God of Thunder had such a sweet tooth?

 

“We're about five minutes away,” replied Darcy, turning onto yet another back street. “You'll know it when we arrive.”

 

Clint nodded, returning his attention to the passing scenery. They were in a surprisingly green area, with trees climbing all around them and small one or two story houses interspersed among the foliage. It looked like a nice neighborhood, though he hadn't actually seen anyone around. He could smell the water though, meaning they couldn't be far from the coast. “Where are we anyway?”

 

“Near the water,” replied Darcy, turning onto yet another street. She slowed as they approached a lot surrounded in trees and a gate cutting across the driveway. Flipping on her blinker, she stopped the car just short of the gate and climbed out. “I'll be right back.”

 

For a moment, Clint watched her head for the gate before focusing on the property in front of them. He couldn't see through the trees and bushes planted along what he realized was a fence line. It was hard to see because of the way the plants had grown almost over the fence. It was a slated bar fence, maybe six feet tall, and all black. Thorny bushes had climbed the bars, meaning a good hold would be difficult to achieve, and there was no way to survey the grounds before you were inside the fence. The only thing visible was the top of the roof of a house, at least from the angle he was at.

 

The sound of the car door opening and closing again drew his attention back to Darcy. Without a word, she put the car back in drive and turned into the now open gate. The ground rose slightly as they turned in, the driveway cutting about twenty feet through the property covered in more trees to a garage who's door opened as they approached. Darcy pulled her car into a space beside an identical cherry red mustang bearing a license plate with the name 'Lola'.

 

Just as Clint climbed out of the car, Jane pulled up behind them in the van. Thor came stumbling out before it had even stopped, looking more than a little disgruntled and sporting multiple braids. Across the car's roof, Clint heard Darcy snort slightly. All he needed were a few flowers, and Thor could retire from the God of Thunder to God of the Hippies.

 

Steve fell out of the van next, looking like someone had been ruffling his hair. Natasha was third, a scowl on her face and her eyes shifting rapidly. There were also several pieces of wadded up paper caught in her hair. Pepper was out next, looking less refined and more like she wanted to kill someone. Tony followed, rubbing the back of his head. There was a red mark on his cheek like someone had slapped him. Jane and Bruce appeared to be the only ones to escape unscathed, both climbing from the front seats and looking no worse for wear.

 

“Do I want to know what you guys were doing in there?” asked Darcy with a touch of a grin, wiggling her eyebrows slightly.

 

Jane just shook her head. “Don't ask, Darcy.”

 

“That sounds like blackmail material to me,” continued Darcy, her voice still teasing. “Will I have to separate all of you? Set up corners of the house?”

 

“Funny,” mocked Tony. “Where is this house anyway? I couldn't see it when we drove up.”

 

Darcy smirked, popping her car's trunk and fishing out a few of the shopping bags. “That's because you weren't looking. Dad and I camouflaged it.”

 

“How do you camouflage a house?” asked Jane as she pulled her bag from the trunk of the van along with everyone else. Clint snagged both his and Darcy's bags before motioning for her to lead the way inside.

 

Rather than walking around the side of the garage though, she headed through the garage to a door inside. Clint followed curiously, assuming they were going to go into the house by the garage. Instead, they stepped outside into what looked like a courtyard.

 

The space was surrounded by rocks along the back, likely part of the original landscape, which gave way to the foundation of a house. A dark brown house with green trim which matched the trees and plants in the front yard. _Oh. Camouflage. Got it._

 

There was a fire pit in the middle of the space and the rock had worn outcrops on it which suggested frequent use as either a seat or a bed. Or as hand holds for kids climbing to the top of the outcropping. There was something that looked like a pile of pillows at the top of the rock, so it was entirely possible people climbed along the surface frequently.

 

The rest of the the yard was bushes and a number of low-maintenance plants that were scattered along the edges to add some color. Most of them looked like they were currently dead for the season, but a few were showing signs of life. Including a row of roses planted along the back wall of the house.

 

Darcy paused beside the roses, her fingers brushing over a leaf sadly. She moved on a moment later, reaching for the knob on the back door and sliding a key in the lock. “Give me a minute to disarm the alarm before you come in.”

 

Without another word, she slipped into the house. There wasn't any noise from inside for several minutes before a soft beep cut through the silence. A moment later, Darcy came back to the door and motioned for everyone to come inside.

 

The first thing Clint noticed as soon as they were inside was how open the main floor was. Very few walls separated the area, making it more like one large room than multiple smaller ones. Only one wall really separated anything and all it really did was block part of the living room from view if one was looking in from the kitchen door.

 

A fireplace rested against one of the side walls, large enough that it could function for cooking in a pinch. A couch was across from it, creating potential cover if it was necessary, but still allowing for a good line of sight. The rest of the furniture all rested against the walls except for the coffee table.

 

One large window sat against the wall perpendicular to the one holding the fireplace. The rest of the light came in from multiple skylights set into the ceiling. Five in all, set into a ceiling that had to rest above both the first and second stories of the house.

 

Three long stairs which covered the entire length of what had to pass for the main entry way led up from the slightly submerged living room space, transitioning into a kitchen. An island sat in the middle of the kitchen, all dark wood with a light marble top. A modern electric range was set into the counter, probably to make it impossible for someone to blow the house using gas. The sink rested in front of the only window in the kitchen, looking out over the courtyard space.

 

“This isn't what I was imagining when I though of Agent's home,” remarked Tony from behind Clint. “I figured there'd be more, I don't know, spy stuff.”

 

Darcy snorted. “Look around. The entire place is set up keeping lines of sight in mind along with cover points in cases of home invasion.”

 

“She's right,” agreed Clint, moving further into the house. A staircase became visible as he left the kitchen and came into the main living room area. Without much thought, he dropped both his bag and Darcy's near the front door. “I can see at least three major defensive positions in here and a few offensive ones too.”

 

“There are six,” corrected Natasha mildly. “Clint is right thought. The home is arranged to withstand assault, yet it looks very inconsequential. I approve.”

 

Darcy shifted a little uncomfortably at Natasha's comment, jerking her thumb towards the back door in a clear need to escape. “I'm going to get the groceries. Just dump your bags in the hall. We can figure out sleeping arrangements in a few minutes.” Then she was gone out the door.

 

Clint considered following her for half a moment but stopped himself. No matter how strong she pretended to be, Phil's death was still too raw for her. Which meant if she needed a moment, he would give it to her. Instead, he scanned the room from this new perspective of the front door to see if he could find the other three defensive positions Natasha had seen. Behind him, the rest of the group slowly moved into the house, the sound of multiple bags hitting the floor echoing through the large space.

 

The stair case he'd noticed before was carefully hidden on the back wall of the living room, inset in the back wall and running along the one dividing wall on the main floor. There was a half-wall at the top of the back wall, leaving a gap between the ceiling and the second floor wall that could be used to open fire from above on anyone who broke into the house.

 

“I wonder if Phil designed this house or if it was like this when he purchased it,” remarked Natasha, her own eyes sweeping the space as she dropped her bag with Clint and Darcy's. “The set up is good for home defense and counter attacking.”

 

“He had it built around the time he adopted me.” Darcy's voice cut through the room from the kitchen as she came stumbling in with her arms laden with groceries. “We were living in an apartment that was SHIELD sanctioned, but didn't offer me a lot of breathing room. So, he had this place built and we'd come out here when he could get the time. He moved us out here permanently when I was fifteen.”

 

Setting the bags on the island, she began shoving various food items into the cabinets and fridge. The cabinets themselves were as bare as Darcy had implied, though some staples such as pasta were visible as she filled the shelves.

 

Fishing one of the bottles of water out of the bag, Tony watched Darcy curiously. “So do you actually still live here?”

 

“In the summers Dad and I would come back,” confirmed Darcy as she closed the last cabinet. “He lives- _lived_ in the city while I was at college, then we came back out here in the summers.”

 

“I don't get why,” muttered Tony. “I mean, c'mon, this place is pretty nice.”

 

Darcy shrugged weakly. It was obvious she was trying to be casual about it, but the whole affair was making her sad. “He said the house is empty without me. Plus, it was more convenient for him to stay in the city near headquarters than stay all the way out here with me.” Gathering the bags from around the room, she roughly shoved them under the sink and moved back into the hallway. “Alright, so here's the deal with sleeping: We've got space down here, obviously, and we've got three bedrooms upstairs: mine, Dad's, and the one guest room Dad had built for reasons I can't understand because we never have guests except his parents who came out to visit a grand total of five times.”

 

Jane nodded slowly, eying the large living room. “What were you planning to do, Darcy?”

 

“I figured we could either all crash down here or some of us could crash upstairs and some down here,” replied Darcy, leaning against the wall beside the stairs. “Depends on what you want.”

 

“I don't wanna sleep in the same room as Barton,” pipped up Tony.

 

“Seriously Stark?” asked Steve in disbelief, though there was something in his eyes that told Clint that Steve was thinking the same thing. He couldn't blame them either. No one should want to stay in the same room as him after what he'd done. “Why would you say something like that?”

 

“Hey! I'd like to actually _sleep_ through the night!” countered Tony. “I've seen the surveillance video. He walks around like a zombie in the middle of the night.”

 

Clint blinked in surprise. _Seriously? My nightmares are what he's worried about? Wasn't expecting that._

 

“He can sleep in my room,” cut in Darcy with a roll of her eyes, bringing Clint out of his head.

 

Jane shot Darcy a concerned look. “Are you sure, Darcy?”

 

“I can sleep in the guest room with him,” added Natasha. There was something in her tone though that belayed her unease with the idea.

 

Not that Clint could blame her; between his nightmares and him trying to kill her under Loki's control, her unease was understandable. Darcy was crazy for agreeing and he should say no, insist on sleeping alone. But something about the offer, the fact that she was willing to sleep in the same room with him despite his nightmares and his actions, made him _not_ want to turn down her offer. She was basically his shrink at this point anyway; maybe she had a reason.

 

“I'm sure,” assured Darcy with a shrug. “There's an air mattress in my room. Anyone else want some private time?”

 

“You don't need to let anyone sleep in your father's room, Darcy,” assured Pepper gently. “And there is no reason to make Clint invade your room. I'm certain we can all sleep down here.”

 

“Agreed,” seconded Jane, though she looked a little less certain than Pepper did.

 

Darcy just rolled her eyes. “We've got three bedrooms upstairs. There's no point in no one using them. Clint and I can have my room, who wants the guest one?”

 

“We shall take it, if no one else shall,” spoke up Thor, one of his hands landing gently on Jane's shoulder. “Unless another would care for it.”

 

“Have at it, big guy,” assured Tony with a shrug. “Pep and I call Agent's old room!”

 

The sharp wince Darcy couldn't suppress made Pepper slap the back of Tony's head. Hard. He looked at Pepper in confusion for a moment, before glancing at the way Darcy was attempting to discretely hide her face and wincing himself. It was pretty obvious he was beating himself up over it too.

 

“I mean, if you're alright with that, Darce,” added Tony, his voice chastised.

 

Darcy shrugged, still not looking up at anyone. Instead, she walked to the pile of bags and grabbed both her's and Clint's. “Whatever you want to do. I'm gonna take these bags upstairs and grab the second air mattress. I'm guessing the rest of you are sleeping down here or splitting the spaces upstairs somehow.”

 

“We'll sleep down here, Darcy,” agreed Steve readily. “Though I agree with Pepper: we should all sleep down here. This is a bonding chance for us and sleeping in the same room is part of that!”

 

Clint shuffled a little uneasily. “I really don't think you want me down here with you.”

 

“Clint?” Natasha's voice was worried, though her face was mostly blank except the eyebrow she raised expectantly.

 

“Nightmares, Tasha,” supplied Clint with a shrug, finally finding a moment to voice his own concerns. He was the one who had to sleep where-ever after all, he should have a say. “Not sure I should share a room with anyone.”

 

“You'll be fine with me,” called Darcy, who was already halfway up the stairs. “It's not a problem. Tasha, if you want, you can sleep in my room too. We can make room.”

 

Natasha looked contemplative for a moment, eyes focused on Darcy in a contemplative way that made Clint very nervous. It wasn't good for anyone when Natasha got that look in her eye. When she finally shook her head no, there was a slight smirk tilting up her lips that made Clint as uneasy as the appraising look. “No, I think I will sleep down here. Thank you for the offer, though.”

 

Shrugging, Darcy made her way up the stairs and disappeared out of sight. She hadn't left the room for five seconds before Pepper started tearing into Tony for his insensitive comments. Clint just shook his head and headed for the stairs as well. Everyone except Tony and Pepper followed. As fun as watching Tony get his ass chewed out by his girlfriend/boss/former assistant could be, this wasn't one of the times that Clint wanted to watch. Partially because he wanted to punch Tony right now.

 

Reaching the top landing, Clint took in the bean-bags set up in front of a large screen television in the little loft-style room next to the stairway. One had Captain America's shield on it and the other was decorated with what looked like arrows. A large hallway opened off the room with four doors leading off it. Two sat on the left side of the hall and two on the right, with a final door at the end of the hallway. Clint approached the one open door, the last one on the right side of the hall, peering inside.

 

Darcy was standing in the middle of what must have been her bedroom, eyes covered by one of her hands and the other folded under her chest. The two bags she'd brought up were resting next to a bed covered in a pale blue comforter embroidered with a tree. A window seat with matching pillows sat in the middle of the back wall. The rest of the room was done in blond wood with the walls painted the color of the sky. A bookshelf nearly collapsing under the weight of it's load, a large chest at the foot of the bed, a nightstand, and a dresser were the only other pieces of furniture. There was a closet door against the wall opposite the bed, covered in slates rather than a solid piece of wood.

 

For a moment, the sight of the room brought back memories for Clint. He understood immediately why closet door was slated and he knew the space under the bed was completely clear. Her history was painted in the design of her room, regardless of how far behind her she said it was.

 

“Clint?”

 

Darcy's voice snapped Clint's attention back to her. “Sorry Darce. I just wanted to see if you needed any help and it felt wrong to watch Pepper chew out Tony's ass, no matter how much he deserved it.”

 

“I'm fine,” assured Darcy, though the fact that he could still see a few tears in her eyes told him she wasn't. “Where are the others?”

 

“Most of them are up here,” replied Clint. “Pepper and Tony are the only ones downstairs.

 

Nodding, Darcy moved towards the entrance to her bedroom and ducked back into the hall. “Right. I need to just check in Dad's room, make sure there's nothing out that the others shouldn't see.”

 

Raising an eyebrow, Clint followed Darcy into the hallway, catching Natasha's eye as Darcy went straight for her father's room. “Like what?”

 

“Embarrassing stuff,” muttered Darcy. “I know it doesn't matter, but I just....”

 

“Can't stand the idea of Tony seeing something that Phil wouldn't want him to?” tried Clint. He couldn't say he really understood how she felt, but he was willing to try and understand a little better.

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy opening the second door on the left wall straight across from her own door and walking inside.

 

Clint followed, his eyes scanning the room curiously. What he found inside wasn't what he was expecting. He'd always assumed any bedroom belonging to Phil Coulson would be basic and bland, reflecting nothing of the man who slept there. What he's seeing is the exact opposite.

 

Classic car photographs hung on the walls beside a few old newspaper clippings about Steve from the war. A recreation of Steve's shield hung over a natural wood dresser covered in framed photographs. All the furniture in the room was made form the same wood excluding a brass floor lamp set up next to an arm chair in one corner of the room. Like Darcy's room, there was a bookshelf against one wall that looked like it was going to collapse under the pressure of it's contents. However, unlike Darcy's room, there was an antique-looking cassette player resting on top of it with a stack of tapes. A medal case hung over the top of the short bookshelf, several medals of honor resting inside. The bed in the middle of the room was covered in a black comforter, a blanket with tell-tale red, white, and blue coloring folded at the end. The only other notable thing in the room was a door that he guessed led to a bathroom.

 

Without much thought, Clint moved to the dresser and picked up the first of the photos resting there. Phil was standing in the photo, arms wrapped around a ten year old child in a blanket. Her face was smudged with dirt, her eyes hollow and empty. Shell-shocked. Phil was hugging her close, like he was determined to protect her from everything. He had a black eye and a split lip, but otherwise he seemed to be fairing far better than the child he was holding.

 

“I don't know why he kept that photo, it's not a good one of either of us.” Clint almost jumped a little, surprised at how close Darcy had gotten to him. Her hand came around and plucked the photo from his hands, eyes examining the image critically. “He always acted like it was special somehow, but I don't see it.”

 

“What's it from?” asked Clint, though he was pretty sure he knew. If it wasn't from the night Phil saved her, or some time in that period of time, he'd eat one of his arrows.

 

Darcy was silent for a moment, her eyes going distant like she was remembering something painful. “It's from the night they arrested the man who brainwashed me.”

 

Nodding slowly, Clint allowed his eyes to scan some of the other photographs on the dresser. The rest of the photos were pretty normal. A picture of Darcy sitting on the hood of a rusted mustang that Clint guessed was the one she currently drove before she and Phil cleaned it up. Another photo of her and Phil at the beach. Darcy grinning and holding up a trophy in one hand, a soccer ball under her arm; Darcy at her high school graduation. A photographic record of Darcy's life, the good half of it. Proof of Phil's love for the frightened little girl he'd taken in and cared so much for. “He really was a good father, wasn't he?”

 

“He was the best father,” confirmed Darcy, her voice tight. “The best father ever.”

 

Looking over at Darcy, Clint felt his heart break. The photo she'd taken from him earlier was clutched to her chest, eyes closed as tears tumbled down her cheeks. He didn't think about it as he wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head beneath his chin, holding her as close as he could. For a moment, she stiffened and Clint thought she might actually pull away. Then one of her arms shifted to wrap around his waist and her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt as she began to cry, her whole body shaking with each shuttering breath she took.

 

Clint just held her closer and murmured softly to her, his own tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he thought of the man he'd helped to kill. His friend, boss, and the father of the girl who was determined to help him even though it was his fault she no longer had a dad. _What did I ever do to deserve being here? To even have her speak to me? She should hate me._ He didn't move though, letting her cry into his shirt.

 

Behind them, he heard the softest of footsteps stop in the doorway, then the sound of the door shutting with the quietest of clicks. Silently, he thanked Tasha (because he knew it was Tasha without even seeing her) and focused on the woman in his arms. Twenty minutes later, he felt her slumping in his arms and knew she'd fallen asleep. Carefully, he scooped her into his arms and lay her on her father's bed, laying the blanket over the end of the bed (which does have the Captain America shield on it like he'd suspected) around her shoulders. For a moment, he paused to just stare at her. Even with a tear stained face, she is beautiful.

 

 _Damnit Barton, stop being a creeper! She's your former boss's daughter, a boss who you had a hand in killing! Show some respect!_ Shaking his head, he quickly ducked out of the room as silently as he could and headed downstairs.

 

Everyone was gathered in the kitchen when he reached the bottom of the stairs, their voices quiet as they hunched over the island with cups of coffee in hand. He waved as he entered, taking a sip from Natasha's cup as he passed. She glared at him like always but didn't maim him. She'd get him back by stealing from his coffee cup in the morning anyway. That's how it always worked, their one point of normalcy.

 

“How is she, Clint?” asked Pepper worriedly, his brow furrowing.

 

“And what the hell did you do to make her cry?” growled Jane, the small astrophysicist glaring daggers at him from over her own coffee cup.

 

Clint reflexively held up his hands, looking at her worriedly. “ Hey, I didn't do anything! I swear! There was a photograph!”

 

“Jane,” whispered Pepper quietly, drawing the scientist's attention. “We knew Darcy was coming here in part to grieve. I'm sure that's all that happened upstairs.”

 

“It is,” confirmed Clint quickly. “I swear, I didn't do anything! I mean, I wasn't just gonna leave her crying in the middle of her dad's room...”  
  


“As you should not,” agreed Thor, leveling his own gaze at Clint. “Our concern is with how she came to be in tears.”

 

Staring at the others, Clint debated how much to say. He was guessing that photograph wasn't something she wanted everyone else to see. Hell, he was pretty sure she'd only let him see it because she'd forgotten it was there. Sighing, he reached for the coffee carafe and poured himself a cup. “Look, it was an old photo of her and Phil, alright? From around the time she first came to live with him. She hasn't really gotten time to grieve, so that's what she's doing. Well, what she was doing. Now, she's sleeping.”

 

“She cried herself to sleep?” asked Jane, her expression going from potentially murderous to sad in a a quarter of a second. “Poor Darcy...”

 

Clint shrugged a little, looking down and sipping his coffee. “Phil was the first real dad she had. He's the _only_ dad she probably acknowledges. This isn't gonna be easy for her.”

 

“I wish we could help her,” murmured Pepper, eyes rising to the stairs.

 

“We can,” replied Clint, gripping his mug a little tighter. “We can give her space, offer her support, and just be aware of what we say and do.” The last comment was directed at Tony, who winced and looked a little sheepish. “That's all we can do for her.”

 

“Then that's what we'll do,” agreed Pepper quietly, moving away from the counter. “Starting with dinner. What should we make?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help doesn't just go in one direction. One step forward, two steps back.

It was nearly dinner when Darcy finally stumbled downstairs, wrapped in the blanket from her father's bed and looking more than a little bleary-eyed. Everyone paused as she entered the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee maker. “Please tell me there's coffee left.”

 

Clint passed her a mug before she even reached the machine. “Just made more. You get the first cup.”

 

He wasn't about to tell her that he'd made the coffee in anticipation of waking her up. His plan had been to use the coffee as an offering. He didn't relish the idea of waking her, mostly because her sleep schedule looked like his own half the time (meaning she got no where near enough sleep). However, she needed to eat too.

 

Taking the cup and shooting him a grateful look, Darcy nearly downed half the cup in one gulp. It was actually kind of impressive given how hot that coffee must have been. “Thanks, Clint.”

 

“No problem,” assured Clint before he refocused on the pot in front of him. Apparently, for some reason, he was the only person present who could actually cook.

 

Well, that wasn't strictly true. Pepper could cook, but not without a recipe. Tony wasn't allowed to use anything in any kitchen, anywhere, because it apparently typically resulted in explosions. Hence his tendency to drink green shakes and steal everyone else's food. Steve knew how to cook basic stuff, but he couldn't do much more than that. The time period he'd been born into didn't encourage men to learn how to cook much beyond boiling water. Bruce for some reason only knew how to make ramen and Jane was the same except her list included poptarts and stick-in-the-oven cookies. Natasha could cook, so long as it was Russian. Otherwise, good luck. He'd tried to teach her to make pasta years ago and had nearly lost his tongue for his efforts. How any of his teammates were still alive, Clint wasn't sure.

 

Regardless, the result is that he's the one cooking dinner.

 

Darcy eyed the pot curiously, tilting her head slightly as she leaned on the counter beside the stove. “You know how to cook?”

 

“Apparently, I'm the only one here who can without stipulations,” replied Clint, shrugging slightly as he checked the pasta, then turned off the stove. “Except maybe you.”

 

“Dad taught me,” stated Darcy, her eyes sliding around the kitchen sadly. “Said he wouldn't let any child of his go through life without learning to cook.”

 

For a moment, the kitchen descended into silence. Though Clint couldn't speak for the thoughts of everyone else, all he could image was Phil standing in the kitchen right where he was showing Darcy how to boil water or make soup. Maybe even bake. It was a weird feeling, on that made Clint feel almost like he was intruding into a sacred space.

 

“So, Darcy,” broke in Pepper casually as she mixed her coffee. It was clearly a carefully timed change of subject meant to leave everyone more at ease. Clint was grateful. “What's this other offer I've heard rumors about you receiving from S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

 

Darcy stiffened a little and shot a look at Clint. “Where did you hear that?”

 

“Tony,” supplied Pepper. “He over-heard you say something to someone in the grocery store- Mary I think?”

 

Groaning, Darcy dropped her forehead into her hand. “Oh god, I didn't even think about it before I spoke.”

 

“Relax,” assured Pepper. “I'm just wondering what they're offering you. If you take their offer over mine, I'll understand, but I'd still like to know what they're offering.”

 

Dropping her hand to rest on the counter, Darcy fidgeted a little with her coffee cup. “They offered me Da- Phil's job. Fury even offered to help me pay for law school and assured me I could leave once I'd completed my education if I still wanted to. He also implied there might be some use for a lawyer in S.H.I.E.L.D., especially a criminal one familiar with international law.”

 

“So wait, you'd be our handler?” asked Clint in surprise. He hadn't thought Darcy had the training to do that.”

 

“Hill would assist for the first few missions and be on-call if I needed her until I was completely comfortable with everything. Sitwell would be working with me, too. Fury said he's a lot like Da- a lot like _Phil._ ”

 

“You can call him 'Dad' if you want to, Darcy,” cut in Natasha smoothly. “No one here will judge you for it. He raised you, that makes him your father.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” muttered Tony. “I'm still disturbed that Agent even _adopted_ a child.”

 

Pepper glared sharply at Tony, her eyes narrowing in a very threatening way. “Tony! Enough!”

 

Tony cringed and nearly curled into a ball at Pepper's sharp tone. Everyone did in sympathy. Yeah, Tony's remarks were uncalled for but Pepper was a very scary woman.

 

Darcy shook her head, sipping her coffee. “Hey, so, it's not quite cold yet. Anyone wanna eat outside? You can see the stars out here and we can light the fire pit. That way it's more like camping and you guys can do the bonding crap. Tell ghost stories or whatever it is people do to bond.”

 

“I don't think most people bond over ghost stories,” remarked Bruce uncertainly.

 

“Fine, most embarrassing story of drunken moronicy,” corrected Darcy with an eye roll.

 

Clint chuckled. “Tony's got us beat there.”

 

“Probably,” agreed Tony with a grin.

 

“Definitely,” confirmed Pepper with a sigh. “I recall a birthday party where you used the bathroom in your suit with everyone watching.”

 

Darcy laughed softly, shaking his head. “Wait, that story was real? Dad told me about that, but I thought he was making it up!”

 

“No, he really did that,” confirmed Pepper with a smile. “Phil thought _I_ was joking when I told him that.”

 

“He seemed like he couldn't quite believe it when he told me,” admitted Darcy, eyes dropping to the counter and tearing up a little.

 

Clint flipped off the stove as the pasta finished. “Hey Darcy, do you have a colander?”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy, snapping quickly out of it and heading to a cabinet. She dug around for a moment before pulling a metal colander from the cabinet and offering it to Clint. “Here. The stuff is clean too, by the way. I was here the other day and threw everything in the wash in anticipation of coming back.”

 

“Good to know,” stated Clint with a grin. “I wasn't worried though.” Taking the colander, he quickly drained the pasta and pulled out plates. “Alright, everyone grab a plate. We eating outside?”

 

“It sounds like a good idea,” commented Steve, even as he started pulling out glasses from the cabinet. “I can go start the fire.”

 

“Nah, I got that,” assured Darcy quickly. “You guys grab food, I'll get everything going outside.”

 

She was already out of the house before Clint could speak up or object. He watched her leave silently, listening to the click of plates as everyone else helped themselves to food. Jane took the liberty of making a plate for Darcy and carried both towards the back door. Outside, he could hear Darcy moving around what sounded like large wood logs.

 

“What's everyone want to drink?” asked Tony from where he was half inside the fridge. “We've got beer, which I think I might be going for, juice, water, blah, blah, blah.”

 

“Beer,” stated Jane as she picked up both plates. “I'm going to help Darcy.”

 

“Beer for me and Darcy too,” stated Clint, holding out his hand for the two bottles that Tony offered. He grabbed both by the neck in one hand and his own plate in the other before maneuvering outside. He just caught something that sounded like Steve asking Tony to make him something that would pack a punch, but didn't hear beyond that. If Steve was drinking, things had to be pretty bad.

 

Outside, the fire pit was burning in full force and Darcy had managed to make some addition camping chairs appear from nowhere. She, however, was tucked away on a ledge in the rock, legs dangling over as she balanced her plate. Clint didn't say a word as he passed up a beer and fork he'd snagged in the kitchen before setting himself up on another ledge not far from her own seat. What could he say? He felt safer up high.

 

Across from him, Darcy chuckled a little. “Dad always said we'd get along. Something about birds of a feather and high places.”

 

Clint nodded, smirking slightly. “I'm gonna guess the nest of pillows is yours?”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy. “But I wouldn't try sleeping up there right now. Dad-” Her voice caught a little as the words stuck in her throat suddenly. “Dad was supposed to bring them in after my last visit.”

 

He didn't need to ask when that was. It was pretty obvious from Darcy's reaction her father's last visit had been around the time he'd died. “We can wash them I'm sure. If not, well, that's what hoses are for.”

 

“Yeah,” agreed Darcy, her voice evening out as the others finally stumbled from inside.

 

Jane was already sitting in one of the chairs, gazing up at the stars intently. The others dropped into the various, empty seats, though Natasha climbed onto the rock with Darcy and Clint. She stayed lower than either of them, but still chose to sit there rather than closer to the fire. Clint could understand it. There was something about hanging back in the shadows that made Natasha feel safer. The same applied to him and he was willing to bet Darcy felt that way as well. It was one thing to sit in a circle of light like that when you were with a small group you trusted well in a familiar place; it was another to do it with a group of people who probably didn't completely trust you in a strange backyard in a strange city. It wasn't like it was cold, either.

 

“So are we gonna tell tales of drunken debauchery or what?” asked Tony as he settled into a chair between Pepper and Steve. “Bird-brain, Spider-woman. Get down here.”

 

“I'm good here,” stated Clint firmly, shaking his head and offering Tony the best grin he could. Natasha just glared at Tony in a way that warned him to drop the issue.

 

Tony grumbled about something or another before taking a swig of his drink and leaning back in his chair. “Fine, don't join the group. But someone else has to start, because I've got too many to choose from and I want think before I speak.”

 

“Clint, I think you're cooking can preform miracles,” joked Pepper in mock awe. “Tony Stark actually wants to think before he speaks.”

 

Grinning, Tony leaned forward. “Hey, I could always talk about Rome.”

 

“Don't talk about Rome,” stated Pepper, narrowing her eyes. “If you talk about Rome, I'm making you sleep with Steve tonight.”

 

“I don't think that's really fair to Steve,” pointed out Bruce, even though he was smiling too. “Though Steve could just sleep on top of him.”

 

“Nah, Tony'd like that too much,” joked Darcy, chuckling.

 

Tony opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it quickly shut and chose to pout instead.

 

“He's speechless,” stated Natasha. “It is a miracle.”

 

A look of irritation crossed Tony's face, but then his eyes darted back to Darcy for a moment before he leaned back in his seat with a shrug. “Yep, I'm speechless. Completely have nothing to say.”

 

Clint shot Tony a grateful look. He could guess the remark Tony had stopped himself from making (something along the lines of “Agent would have liked it more”) and felt relieved the genius had thought through that comment before making it. Then again, Tony had his own slew of daddy issues. Couple that with the fact that the reality of Phil being Darcy's father might be finally settling in and it could explain the genius' sudden empathy. Or it was fear that Pepper really would make him sleep with Steve that night. Clint really didn't care as long as Darcy didn't end up in tears.

 

“This is beautiful, Darcy,” remarked Jane, her eyes locked on the stars. “You can see the stars so well out here...”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy quietly, poking at her food. “I used to camp out here in high school sometimes. There was this meteor shower once...” her voice trailed off a bit as she spoke, a sad smile spreading over her lips, “it was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen.”

 

“Do you remember when it was?” asked Jane curiously, tearing her eyes away from the stars to look at Darcy. “I might have seen it, too. I try to watch every one that I can.”

 

Darcy nodded slowly, smiling a bit. “It was right before I went to college.” She paused for a moment, reluctance in her voice before she slowly continued. “I couldn't sleep that night, so Dad and I were both up and he figured we might as well be outside if we were going to be awake. So, he grabbed the remaining stuff for s'mores and we came outside to roast marshmallows and just chill. At some point, I saw something flash in the sky and looked up. Dad did too, more out of concern than anything probably, but another meteor streaked by just after the first. Then more and more began to fall. We ended up sitting outside watching the shower until 3 am.” Clint could faintly make out the glint of tears in Darcy's eyes as she finished her story. He could just imagine Phil convincing his teenage daughter to come outside for s'mores because she couldn't sleep. Chances were good too that Phil had known about the meteor shower.

 

“I think I remember that one,” murmured Jane softly. “It was about five years ago, right?”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy, wiping a hand under her eyes. “Something like that.” She fell silent then, poking at her food.

 

“That was a beautiful shower,” agreed Jane just before she started off on one of her astrophysicist rants about meteors or something. Clint couldn't exactly understand her.

 

Ignoring the group for a moment as they listened to her rant, with Tony and Bruce breaking in on occasion, Clint turned instead to Darcy, nudging her leg slightly with his foot. When she looked at him, he dropped his voice and leaned slightly over to her. “You're supposed to actually put the food in your mouth, not mash it up on the plate.”

 

She glanced at him for a moment, giving him a semi-dirty look before she stuck a bite in her mouth. Her eyes lit up a little in surprise as she did, glancing down at her plate before looking back at him with a raised eyebrow. Swallowing, she questioned him in disbelief. “You made this?”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Clint, shooting his own raised eyebrow back. “Why?”

 

“'Cause Dad always made it sound like you'd burn the house down if you tried to cook,” explained Darcy, shaking her head slightly. A bit of a teary laugh escaped her throat. “God, he'd be so surprised to find out he was wrong...” Her voice trailed off near the end, her disbelief turning to sadness again in a sudden turn around that made Clint's head spin.

 

Without thinking about it, he slipped closer to her ledge and reached out to take her hand. It was automatic and he didn't think about the fact that she hated touching people. She jumped at his touch, apparently not watching for it, and dumped her food on the ground, nearly tumbling off the ledge after it. Without a thought, Clint reached out to stabilize her, only for his hands to meet empty air. Quick reflexes on her part let her keep from falling, but he wasn't so lucky. He tumbled off the ledge, loosing his balance when he over calculated, and landed in both their spilled food.

 

Blinking, he took a moment to bemoan the plates that were probably broken under him before sitting up. He glanced up at her as soon as he was upright and wished he hadn't. She was curled on the edge of her ledge, as far from where he'd been sitting as she could get, and looking like she thought she was about to be hit.

 

Wide eyes met his, still teary from a moment before, but the mix of shock and haunting fear is unmistakable. Mentally, Clint kicked himself for forgetting that Darcy didn't like to be touched; for allowing himself to make such a mistake and not being obvious about it. For not making sure she could see his hand. He'd been through the same thing as Darcy: he _knows_ better than to touch someone who's undergone any abuse without warning when they're relaxed. The hyper-awareness can be temporarily assuaged if they felt safe, but it meant they would react worse if startled. And he knew it was her reaction earlier that made him think that taking her hand might be okay, which was the biggest mistake he could have made.

 

Consent once doesn't mean continuing consent. He knows that.

 

“Darcy, are you alright?” Jane's already up, standing at the base of the rock in concern. One of her hands reached up towards Darcy, but the former-intern just pulled her legs up to her chest and moved further out of reach.

 

“Stop,” insisted Clint as he sat up, righting himself despite the sensation of spaghetti sliding down the back of his shirt. He drew in a deep breath and tried to force the pain out of his back as he stumbled to his feet. “Just, give her a minute.”

 

Jane's eyes narrowed at Clint angrily, the small scientist turning on him like an angry dog. “Shut it, _Barton_. We didn't see what happened but I'd bet money that _you_ upset her!”

 

“You're right, I did,” confirmed Clint, not bothering to deny that he was responsible. “I did screw up. I'm responsible for scaring her. But I'm serious, just back down for a few minutes. Let her relax, otherwise you'll make it worse.”

 

Jane didn't look convinced, but a glance up at Darcy apparently convinced her he might be at least a little bit right. So she stepped back and waited, like the rest of them, until Darcy took a deep breath and slowly uncoiled herself. She wouldn't look up at any of them though as she pushed off the ledge and dropped to the ground.

 

“Sorry,” she muttered, holding out a shaky hand to Clint.

 

He stared at it for a moment, before shaking his head and waving it away. “This isn't your fault Darcy and no one is mad at you.”

 

Pushing to his feet, he never touched her hand because he knew she wasn't ready. He'd done the same thing: offered his hand, some sign of normalcy because he'd flipped out. Coulson had ignored his hand the one time he'd flipped him to the ground because of an incident like that. It was the smartest thing ever because Clint _wasn't_ okay to be touched at that time.

 

Darcy shifted uneasily, withdrawing her hand with a furrowed brow. It was like she couldn't process that someone wasn't pushing her. Or, well, someone other than Coulson, because he doubted Coulson would have ever pushed Darcy. “Thanks.”

 

The unstated reason for the thank you was powerful: thank you for not pushing it, thank you for being respectful, thank you for recognizing what others usually don't. Clint just nodded in return. Darcy was trying to help him sort through the hell in his head- the least he could do was respect her enough to recognize the signs of her own distress.

 

“I'm gonna go inside,” stated Darcy suddenly. “Grab a shower.” She didn't say anything else as she walked away from the group, just restraining herself from darting away. No one offered any objections as she disappeared, just watched her flee into the safety of the house.

 

As soon as she was thought to be out of ear shot though, Jane turned furiously on Clint. “What the hell was that? What just happened!”

 

Clint sighed, not really sure he wanted to try and explain what just happened. Still, Jane was pissed and she'd probably go storming after Darcy if he didn't at least offer some explanation. Pulling off his shirt (because the spaghetti was starting to turn cold), Clint focused on trying to wipe the noodles from the fabric as he spoke. “She was relaxed and I didn't think to ask before I reached over to touch her hand. I was trying to comfort her, and I startled her instead. She went into defensive mode. End of story.”

 

He could feel the others staring at him, questioning what he'd said. Of course they'd be suspicious, it wasn't like he advertised that he'd been through something similar. It wasn't like he talked about the fact he'd been beaten as a kid, too. He didn't jump when people touched him anymore, mostly because Coulson had helped break him of most of that habit. What was left, well, he could pass it off as PTSD.

 

“So why not accept her apology?” asked Pepper curiously.

 

“Because there's nothing for her to apologize for,” replied Clint simply, shrugging a bit as he gave up on the shirt. “I freaked her out. It's on me, not her.” Looking up at the others finally, she gave them another shrug. “I'm going to try to save my shirt. Let Darcy get her head back in a good place and just don't worry about her. She'll be okay, it happens.”

 

“You sound like you're speaking from experience,” remarked Tony suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at Clint. He never had to answer though, because Pepper did him the favor of smacking Tony's shoulder for his comment. “Ow! Pep!”

 

“Tony, you don't ask people things like that!” groaned Pepper, glaring at him. “It's rude.”

 

“Why?” asked Tony, rubbing his arm.

 

Clint didn't catch the rest. He used the distraction of a Tony/Pepper argument to disappear inside. Natasha probably noticed (she always noticed), but no one else would. Besides, he needed a new shirt, right? It wasn't like he was going to check on Darcy. Well, okay, if he could check on her subtly, he would, but he wasn't going to actually talk to her.

 

Heading upstairs, he noted the sound of running water from the master bedroom and let out a sigh of relief. Intentionally or unintentionally, Darcy had left the hall bathroom open for him. Which was good because he was pretty sure his back was stained red from tomatoes.

 

The guest bathroom was a lot bigger than he'd thought it would be, but given it was probably Darcy's main bathroom it made sense. Like in her bedroom, the bathroom closet door had slates on it and he knew the inside was big enough to hide in. The room was big and included a large window someone could escape through if necessary. A hiding spot, maneuvering space, and multiple exits. It was pretty obvious that the bathroom was designed with Darcy in mind.

 

Throwing his shirt in the sink, Clint ran water over it in an attempt to get some of the red free and left it to soak. Maybe if he was in any way lucky, some of it would come out if he soaked it. Probably not though- that just wasn't his luck.

 

Leaving the most-likely ruined fabric to soak in the sink, Clint cut back down the hall towards Darcy's room. The water was still running from what he could hear as he ducked into her bedroom for his bag. He probably had a few minutes before she got out, leaving him with some time to dig out new clothes. Yeah, he could just drag his whole bag into the bathroom but that sounded unappealing. Besides, he'd just sort of thrown everything into a bag and zipped it up. It was really just easier to get what he wanted before he showered.

 

Turning around with his clothes in hand, Clint almost jumped out of his skin. Darcy was standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around her body and her hair dripping down her back. He struggled to draw breath for a moment- between her surprising appearance and her nakedness, he was having trouble focusing enough to get himself under control. Darcy, by contrast, appeared completely unfazed by the whole matter. She just slipped past him and headed towards her closet without a word.

 

He debated trying to ask how she was or checking in to see if she was feeling better, but the set of her shoulders and her body advised him against it. Her shoulders were still set in a tense line and her face was devoid of any expression. It wasn't a surprise that she'd shut down, but he knew trying to talk to her right now wouldn't be welcome. The fact that she wasn't hiding her distress was huge; it showed a sense of trust that he hadn't known she felt towards him. That was enough for him. If she was going to show him how she was really feeling and not bother to try to act okay when she wasn't, he'd do her the favor of not pressing for answers.

 

So he silently left the room, heading to the bathroom to wash the sauce and stupidity from his back.


	13. Chapter 13

Cold sweat poured from Clint as he shot up in bed, breathing rapid and body shaking. His eyes automatically snapped around the unfamiliar room, trying to find anything to anchor himself with. Something he could latch onto and use to pull himself back to reality. It was the only thing that helped him come down from these nightmares sometimes.

 

Which was when he heard the whimper, followed by the shuffling of sheets. He didn't have to really look to know what that sound was; it was all too familiar. Natasha frequently tossed violently and whimpered in her sleep if she didn't manage to exhaust herself first.

 

Looking over towards the only bed in the room, he saw exactly what he thought he would. Darcy was tossing on her bed, whimpering in her sleep and thrashing out violently at intervals. His heart actually twisted a little at the sight. He knew that fear, recognized all of the signs of a memory-turned-nightmare. And if what she'd hinted about was anything to go off, she had more than enough memories to create a lifetime of nightmares.

 

He thought about waking her, was even reaching out to shake her shoulder, when she suddenly let out a shout and shot up in her bed. Like he had been moments before, she was shaking and panting, her whole body tensed to defend herself from an unknown threat. It felt like a tidal wave of pain and anguish flooded the room for a moment, threatening to overwhelm Clint, but it disappeared just as quickly. Obviously, he wasn't getting enough sleep. He was starting to hallucinate.

 

“Darcy?” called Clint gently, trying to get her attention. “Darce?”

 

Slowly, her head turned in his direction. Her eyes, normally so warm and casual, held the same haunted look Natasha's did at times when she woke from a nightmare suddenly. It was the same look that Clint knew he was probably still sporting at that moment. Maybe that theory Coulson had broached once about nightmares being contagious wasn't that far off after all.

 

“Clint.” Her voice was horse, rough from sleep and probably from whimpering. She hadn't been screaming that he'd heard, but that didn't mean she hadn't made any noise either.

 

For a few seconds, she just blinked at him as if her mind was having trouble recognizing that he was sitting right in front of her. He stared back, meeting her eyes with what he hoped was a semi-understanding look. It was impossible to tell if it worked or not though, particularly when she looked away before speaking. “Sorry.”

 

“It's alright,” assured Clint, shrugging a bit in hopes of putting her a little at ease. Maybe she was supposed to be helping him, but that didn't mean he couldn't help her in return. If there was one thing Natasha had taught him, it was that your past never stops haunting you; it's always curled somewhere in the shadows, just waiting to cause you trouble. “Believe me, after all the times I've woken Nat with my flailing, it's about time it happened to me.”

 

Closing her eyes, Darcy balanced her forehead carefully on her knees while keeping her hands on the bed beside her. It wasn't something Clint hadn't seen her do for longer than a few seconds before and usually it was in reaction to Tony doing something absolutely stupid. Which, well, Clint probably _had_ done something stupid, but nothing was blatantly sticking out to him at the moment. Then again, it might be a safe pose for her, like the fetal position.

 

Silently, he watched as her hands slowly began to move, dragging her fingers up and down along the sheets. It looked rhythmic, particularly when her fingers began to drum out a steady pattern. It was almost like watching a pianist play without a piano.

 

“What actually woke you?” Darcy's voice startled Clint, almost causing him to jump. Her eyes were still shut and her fingers were still moving, but she was apparently expecting him to answer all the same. Maybe. It was really hard to guess in this particularly situation.

 

“Not sure,” admitted Clint with a shrug, stretching a little and rolling his shoulders. “My own nightmare, I think. Can't really remember it.”

 

The wince that passed over Darcy's face was readily visible and her fingers momentarily stumbled in their dancing rhythm. Still, she didn't actually life her head or stop moving her fingers. “Sorry.”

 

“You didn't do anything Darce,” dismissed Clint, shifting around so he could stand up and stretch. “It happens. Nightmares are more common than not at this point. That's what a punching bag is for.”

 

A touch of a smile twitched at Darcy's lips, her head rising at last from her knees as her fingers slowly stopped dancing across her sheets. “Well, I think dad has one in the basement.”

 

Both of Clint's eyebrows rose in surprise. “You have a basement?”

 

“A gym basement, yeah,” confirmed Darcy with a weak shrug. “The door's hidden because it doubles as our safe room, but we have one.”

 

Chuckling, Clint shifted around so he was fully facing her and offered her a grin. “We probably can't get to it without waking the others though.”

 

Darcy snorted a little, some of the normal humor that she embodied coming back as she threw her legs out of her bed. “It's a _safe room_ . If I couldn't get to it from my _bedroom_ , there wouldn't be much point in having it.”

 

“True,” admitted Clint as he watched Darcy pad across her room. Well, he tried _not_ to watch her because, frankly, she was in an over-sized Captain America shirt she probably stole from Coulson and what looked like really small shorts. It meant Clint had a good view of her rear as she crossed the room and he was honestly trying not to be a pervy old man and stare. Really, he was trying. But it really was too late at night and, well, he was curious about where this safe room was. It wasn't like there were a lot of options for where the door could be.

 

Pausing beside her closet, Clint half expected her to open the slatted door and open some trapdoor inside. Instead, she turned to her overstuffed bookshelf and grabbed the edge, pulling the shelf aside as if it weighed nothing. Which was when Clint realized that it probably did.

 

“Is there anything on that shelf that's real?” wondered Clint aloud, watching her move the shelf with almost no effort.

 

“A few things,” confirmed Darcy, leaving the bookshelf aside to reveal a blank looking wall. “But it's mostly faked. Pretty much everything I read is digital. Easier to carry around.”

 

Clint almost winced a little. That was something else he knew too well: the idea that anything not large or bolted down could get thrown at you. It made a lot more sense that Darcy would keep her books on a single digital device rather than having a shelf of them.

 

Silently, he watched as she slid open a panel on the wall and typed something in. The wall beside her popped open a second later, revealing a set of stairs spiraling down in a narrow shaft in the wall. She stepped aside then, gesturing to the stairway. “If you wanna see it, it's that way.”

 

Scrambling up from his place on the floor (and making sure his eyes were definitely pointing up), Clint ventured to the opening in the wall and stuck his head in. It was impossible to tell how far down the spiraling staircase went, but the whole basement safe room idea seemed entirely more plausible now. “You sure we can go down there?”

 

“It doubles as a gym,” reminded Darcy, leaning on the wall beside the opening. Her voice lost some of it's stability with her next words though. “Besides, no one is going to get mad.”

 

He could hear the tears in her voice without even looking up and every muscle in his body tensed in response. Touching her wouldn't help; it would just make things worse like it had earlier. But damnit if he didn't want to hug her.

 

Stepping back, Clint shook his head and reached around her carefully to try to figure out how to close the door. Going down there wasn't going to help her, it was just going to make her sad. Whatever was down there was a truly private space- accessible only to her and Coulson. She didn't need him disturbing it.

 

“Clint?” asked Darcy, her eyes watching his fingers as he tried to figure out the door's controls. “What are you doing?”

 

“Trying to shut the door,” replied Clint, his brow furrowing. There should have been a big 'close' button or something obvious.

 

Darcy shifted some, her fingers brushing his aside and hitting a few buttons before the door snapped shut. “It takes a code to close outside off the stairwell. It's supposed to keep anyone who does manage to find the door from locking themselves in the stairwell with me or locking me inside.”

 

“Makes sense,” agreed Clint, his eyes refocusing on Darcy. Which is about when he realized how close he was to her. It wasn't any closer than he'd been on the subway, but somehow it felt a hell of a lot more intimate than when they'd been on the train. Then again, that might be because she was basically in an old t-shirt and he wasn't exactly dressed. Shirts made him uncomfortable when he slept, namely because he didn't like the pressure around his neck. It meant he wasn't wearing a shirt now, when he probably really could have used the extra layer.

 

If she noticed though, she didn't let on. Her head tilted back to meet Clint's eyes as she leaned on the wall, the anxiety from earlier faded but not gone. Clearly, she was no where near relaxed, but at least most of the fear had melted away. “So, what do you want to do?”

 

“Uh, what?” asked Clint, blinking at her in surprise. He wasn't sure why the question was so unexpected, but for some reason, he hadn't been expecting it. _Probably because your hovering near the gutter. She doesn't want to sleep, so find something else to do that doesn't involve losing more clothing._

 

“I'm not going back to bed, but the others are out in the living room, so we can't exactly watch TV or something,” pointed out Darcy mildly. “And Pepper and Tony are in the other room where the radio is, so can't exactly listen to that either.”

 

Clint nodded slowly, eyes scanning her room for something to do. When he couldn't sleep in the circus, he'd usually shoot arrows until his arms ached, but that wasn't exactly an option here. Coulson wasn't the type to keep targets laying around. “Um, do you have a deck of cards?”

 

One of Darcy's eyebrows popped up but she turned to the trunk in her room and, after a moment, fished out what looked like a really worn deck of cards. “What do you know how to play?”

 

“Lots of stuff,” replied Clint as he carefully took the cards and sat down on the ground. “What do you prefer?”

 

For a moment, Darcy looked almost embarrassed, one of her hands rising to rub at the back of her neck. “Well, dad and I always played cribbage...”

 

“Cribbage?” repeated Clint, one eyebrow popping up even as he shuffled the cards. “Isn't that for old people?”

 

Scoffing a bit, Darcy dropped down to sit across from him and balanced her elbows on her knees. “Dude, that game takes skill.”

 

“I'm pretty sure that's what they play at retirement homes,” stated Clint as he repositioned the deck between them with a bit of a smirk. “Steve probably knows how to play it.”

 

“Nope, I asked,” countered Darcy, scooping up the deck and shuffling it herself. “But, since you clearly haven't learned the finer art of card games, how about poker?”

 

“Finer art of card games, huh?” asked Clint, a smirk drawing across his face as he leaned forward. “Alright, teach me.”

 

“Teach you,” repeated Darcy, her shuffle momentarily becoming uneven as she glanced up at him in marked disbelief. “You want me to teach you cribbage.”

 

“Or any other 'skill' card games you know,” confirmed Clint as he leaned back on his hands. “Though I'll warn you, I'm damn good at poker.”

 

“And I learned how to play poker from a man who looks bored when facing down a giant alien robot,” countered Darcy with a pointed look. “Pretty sure I have the advantage.”

 

Clint was careful not to wince at Darcy's use of the present tense and accepted the cards as she dealt them out. “Are you going to teach me this old man card game or are you going to talk?”

 

“I'm going to teach you,” assured Darcy as she set the deck back between them. “Now cut the deck and prepare to learn a real card game.”

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

“Hey, look who finally dragged himself out of bed.” The voice that called out to him as he stumbled into the kitchen grated slightly on Clint's nerves and nearly sent him back up to Darcy's room to hide. How Tony was actually cheerful in the morning was beyond him. Then again, it was possible the man simply hadn't slept.

 

Everyone up appeared to be up and awake, save Darcy who he knew was still passed out upstairs. He'd made sure to sneak out quietly and close the door so no one would wake her. After the night she'd had, she needed the sleep.

 

Grumbling, the archer just made his way to the coffee maker and attempted to ignore the others. It was too early in the morning for Tony's bullshit. No one else even tried to speak with him until he had a cup of coffee in hand and had managed to gulp down half of it.

 

“Is Darcy still asleep?” asked Jane curiously, worry evident in her words.

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Clint, swallowing down a particularly hot gulp with a wince. He should probably take some coffee up to her. Even if he didn't want to wake her, the others weren't going to be particularly understanding and he didn't really want to tell them about the late night disturbance. “She was still out cold when I woke up.”

 

“Should someone wake her?” asked Bruce uncertainly. “It's almost 10:30.”

 

“I will,” offered Clint, swallowing the rest of his coffee and pulling out a fresh cup for Darcy. “Just let me get a peace offering first.”

 

There was silence for a moment, something which Clint pointedly tried to ignore, before Natasha spoke up. “What happened Clint.”

 

It wasn't a question, rather a demand for information. Clint internally winced, setting the carafe back on the burner as gently as he could. “She had a nightmare, that was all. We stayed up for a while after. Not a big deal.”

 

Natasha nodded once, relaxing her stance and moving around him to the carafe. She didn't offer a verbal response and Clint let that speak for itself. It was their language- the silence. If you gave a nod after the other person answered a question, you indicated the answer was sufficient. A raised eyebrow meant the answer wasn't sufficient. And if there was a follow up question? Well, then you'd really messed up.

 

“Darcy has nightmares?” asked Jane quietly, her voice wavering a little uncertainly.

 

“It isn't really a surprise,” pointed out Pepper softly, her fingers drumming against the side of her cup. “After what she told us concerning her history...”

 

“Except she said it was in the past,” reminded Tony, reaching around Pepper to snatch up a pancake straight from a plate and roll it up before taking a bite. “I mean, she's what, 24 now? And that happened when she was 10?”

 

“Time doesn't make it go away, Tony,” corrected Steve, a little huffier than Clint would have expected. There was something knowing about his words though- and Steve probably would know something about time versus healing. The guy had pretty bad PTSD related to his actions in World War II. He didn't discuss it, didn't let it show, but Clint saw it in the pinch of the soldier's eyes and tensing of his shoulders sometimes when people startled him.

 

“Steve's right,” added in Clint, his eyes falling to the coffee he was making to Darcy's exacting specifications. His voice was steady somehow, though even he wasn't deaf to the dark tone that hugged his words. “Abuse doesn't go away. You can push it back, try to forget it occurred, but the memories never completely go away.”

 

Collecting the cup, Clint headed for the door to the kitchen, leaving the others in his wake. They didn't object or make any move to follow him, either. He wasn't going to hazard a guess at why either; he was just grateful for the quiet. Taking the stairs two at a time, Clint quietly crept down the hall to Darcy's room. He wasn't really sure if she was a light or heavy sleeper, though he'd guess she probably slept pretty lightly based on her history. He couldn't really imagine someone going through all that sleeping heavily or well. Then again, exhaustion might dictate that just as much as personal habits. If he'd been up for multiple nights or slept badly for more than three, he tended to pass out and then even an earthquake couldn't rouse him.

 

The door to Darcy's room was open when he reached the end of the hall, a fact that momentarily gave him pause until the door right across from her room opened. Which was the point when he nearly dropped the cup of coffee in his hands. Steam accompanied her exit, dancing around her as she padded across the hallway in only a towel, completely ignoring Clint's presence. Or, well, he thought she was until she paused at her door and held out her hand. The pointed, grumpy look she sent him said very clearly she wanted the coffee in his hands, which he happily passed over without a word.

 

Silently, she took the cup and downed half of it before stepping into her room and closing the door, leaving Clint standing in the hallway attempting to process what just happened and trying not to feel like a dirty old man. It wasn't exactly easy. She'd been in a towel after all and Clint was only human, despite what some people seemed to think. As it was, he was still standing there dumbly when she opened the door again, dressed with the empty coffee cup in hand. She raised one eyebrow in silent prompting but otherwise didn't question his presence, just stepped aside and gestured for him to enter her room. There was a pointed look at his clothing that followed, but no other words.

 

Right. Clothes. He was still in his sleepwear which, well pretty much clothing, probably wasn't something he wanted to go walk around town in. If only because the shirt was a joke that Natasha had given him, which read: “I love pizza and you” with a heart where the word 'love' should be. Where she'd found it, he wasn't sure or going to ask. The cotton was comfortable and, hey, it was a shirt, even if the gift had been a mocking prod by Natasha at his 'unhealthy' relationship with pizza.

 

Stepping into the room, he pushed the door shut behind him and grabbed the first shirt in his bag and a pair of jeans. Rapidly, he changed into the fresh clothing and chucked his sleeping clothes into his bag. It sounded silly but he didn't really want to leave Darcy alone with the others for long. He knew they were her friends like they were his, but recent events had highlighted to him why Darcy hadn't told them a lot of things. Namely, it was the fact they didn't seem capable of separating Darcy's past from who she currently was. It was silly, but part of him wanted to protect her from everyone, including their friends. It wasn't that the others were going to be rude to her or knowingly hurt her, but having people walk on egg shells around you wasn't exactly comforting. Tony was the only one who wouldn't and when Tony became the most socially tolerable person in the room, well, there was something wrong.

 

Hurrying back downstairs, Clint reentered the kitchen to find the others still gathered and Darcy with a second cup of coffee in hand. She didn't look uncomfortable, just mildly irritated. That might be the lack of sleep though. He recalled Jane making a remark once about her former intern being very coffee dependent, which made sense if she had trouble sleeping. How often she struggled to sleep, he wasn't sure, but it was pretty apparent she struggled with sleeping. At least right now she was.

 

“Hey, bird brain is back,” greeted Tony, who'd taken up residence against one of the counters. The genius was smirking, but there was a look in his eyes that Clint wasn't sure he recognized. It was almost like Tony was wordlessly asking him for something, but Clint couldn't imagine what. “Come to join the flock?”

 

“We aren't all birds, Tony,” remarked Steve, his voice irritated as if Tony had just interrupted something. Maybe he had, it was hard to say. If Tony had interrupted something though, Clint suspected it might be a good thing. Particularly if Darcy looked annoyed.

 

“No, but a third of us can fly,” pointed out Tony dismissively, waving his hand a little and picking up a cup from the counter. “It'll be three once I finish bird-brain's hover cycle.”

 

Clint balked a little, everyone else except Darcy shooting Tony surprised looks. She looked pretty casual about the whole thing, sipping her coffee in a way that said she'd known about Tony's apparent project already. It made him wonder if Tony had talked the idea over with Darcy. He couldn't even begin to guess why the genius would talk with Darcy of all people about something like that, but she clearly knew about this somehow.

 

“Hover cycle?” repeated Natasha, raising a curious eyebrow at Tony. It was the casual look that managed to completely conceal her thoughts on the matter.

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Tony, as if building a cycle that hovered was absolutely no big deal. Which, well, for Tony it probably wasn't. “Got bored one night and though, hell, he's got a bird name and brain, he should be able to fly as well.” The look in his eyes belied his casual tone though. The way he met Clint's eyes, the look, told him there was something more going through the genius' mind. That wasn't something Clint was about to explore though. “Besides, you're useless on the ground.”

 

“I feel like I should be offended,” stated Clint, shaking his head and pushing Tony's weird attitude out of his head. Delving into the engineer's reasoning was just asking for trouble. Or a migraine. “I can shoot just fine from the ground.”

 

“Yes, that's why Coulson referred to you as his 'eyes in the sky',” snorted Natasha, shaking her head a little as she settled back against the counter. Her eyes were on Darcy though, watching her reaction carefully. It actually upset Clint a little, to see the suspicion in Natasha's eyes. Suddenly, he had a good idea of what had been happening before he walked in the room.

 

“Eyes in the sky doesn't mean useless on the ground,” remarked Darcy as she turned away from the group and set her cup in the sink. Her face was about as relaxed as Clint imagined it could be given the fact that she was still mourning her father's death. Then again, she probably had to hear a lot of that, particularly since no one appeared to know she was Coulson's daughter. “So, what do all of you wanna do?”

 

The rapid topic change seemed to throw everyone off guard for a moment except Tony, who just rolled with the shift. Almost immediately, he leaned on the island and shrugged. “You're the one from around here, you tell us.”

 

Darcy considered the idea for a moment, seeming to toss the thought around her head before she straightened and gestured in the general direction of the front of the house. “Well, there's a path that runs along the bay and ends in town. We could walk it.”

 

“I think I ran that path this morning,” remarked Steve, leaning against the counter beside Natasha. “It's a good trail but it might be a bit long.”

 

“We don't have to walk to town,” replied Darcy with a shrug, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the sink. “We could take it down to the park, that's not too far from here. I only said the thing about comfortable shoes because the path is made of wood planks so, you know, heels are kinda a bad idea unless you want to go to the hospital.”

 

“Let's avoid the hospital for a change,” stated Pepper, resting a hand lightly on Darcy's shoulder. How Darcy didn't flinch, Clint wasn't sure. He could tell from the way her fingers tensed into a fist that she wasn't really happy about the contact though. “Should we meet outside in fifteen minutes?”

 

“Fifteen works for me,” agreed Darcy, shrugging a bit and using the motion to dislodge Pepper's hand from her shoulder. She stepped around the group then, heading for the living room and presumably the stairs back up to her room. “Again, don't recommend heels.”

 

She was out of the room before anyone else had a chance to comment or argue, leaving the rest of the group to break apart and prepare to leave. Pepper and Jane were out of the room quickly, Pepper likely to change her shoes and Jane to most likely attempt to remember where she put her shoes. Natasha followed with Bruce, neither saying a word as they wondered from the room, leaving Tony, Steve, Clint, and Thor behind.

 

“Clint,” spoke up Thor, catching the archer's attention. The God of Thunder was standing against the counter with his own cup of coffee carefully cradled in his palms. He looked troubled though, an abnormal sight for the Aesir warrior.

 

“What's up, big guy?” asked Clint, offering his teammate a curious look.

 

Setting aside the cup, Thor straightened to his full height and held out a hand towards Clint. “I just wished to apologize again for the pain my brother has put you through. I have already apologized to Lady Darcy, though she dismissed the matter without further word and stated it was unnecessary. I hope you shall accept my apology though. I swear to you, my brother was not always as he is now.”

 

“Yeah, being lied to is kinda a game changer,” remarked Tony, though again there was that look that said there was something else floating around in his head.

 

Clint felt himself nodding without realizing it. “Finding out you're another species can't be easy.”

 

Tony sputtered then, choking a little. “Wait, hold up, another species?”  


“Uh, yeah,” stated Clint slowly, nodding and not bothering to hide his 'where have you been' look. “Loki isn't even the same species as Thor. He's some enemy species or something like that. He ranted about it. Repeatedly.”

 

“A jotunn,” stated Thor quietly, his lips thinning in apparent displeasure and sadness. “The jotunn and aesir have been at war for a very long time.”

 

“Ya know that's kinda fishy right?” asked Tony, cocking an eyebrow. “I mean, no offense to your dad, but taking in the kid of another race you're at war with is kinda fishy.”

 

“Yeah, well, it doesn't mean he gets to brainwash people and try to take over the world,” growled Clint, letting the anger he normally kept tightly contained push a little to to the surface. He wrapped himself in that anger, using it as a reminder that he hated the man Thor called 'brother' for everything he'd done wrong.

 

Pushing away from the counter, Clint headed for the stairs up without a word. He wasn't going to get into this. He couldn't even begin to really consider why Loki had done what he had. He didn't want to understand Loki at all. The man had screwed up his head for the sole purpose of taking over the world. His reasons why didn't matter. Loki had killed Phil and murdered innumerable people. And he'd used Clint to cause some of the damage. No, Clint wasn't going to let any sympathy for the man through; he wasn't going to draw parallels between his own history and Loki's. Nope, not going there. He'd go out with the team, they'd have a nice walk to the park, and he'd put Loki out of his mind. Period.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a bit of a filler chapter between events. I wanted something that would tell us a little more about Darcy's life with Phil. Clint's issues will crop up again more in the next chapter.

Darcy was standing outside tapping her foot when Clint emerged from the house ten minutes later. It wasn’t an impatient tapping though; it was more nervous than impatient. Like she felt the need to get going already. Who knew, maybe she did. The fact that all of the Avengers and their associates, most of whom were virtual strangers, were packed into the house she’d shared with her recently deceased adoptive father might have something to do with it. They’d invaded what had to be a sacred space for her; that she was anxious to get them all out made a lot of sense.

 

“Little impatient there, iPod girl?” asked Tony as he swaggered out behind Clint, breaking any momentary reprieve their host had from the group.

 

Darcy barely glanced at Tony as she flipped him off. “Maybe I’m just impatient waiting for your slow ass.”

 

“Blame grandpa for that one,” remarked Tony, scoffing slightly as he jabbed his thumb back at the kitchen door. “He’s making sure everyone has proper shoes.”

 

“No, he’s not,” stated Darcy, rolling her eyes as she finally looked over at Tony completely. “He’s looking at a map of the area so he knows where we’re going.” At Tony’s raised eyebrow, she pointed to the front of the house. “He went out front five minutes ago to check the cross streets and orient himself.”

 

Tony gave Darcy a weird look, but was cut short of commenting by Steve’s sudden appearance. Spotting the group, he immediately made a bee-line towards them, a map tucked under his arm.

 

“Figure out where we are?” asked Darcy with a smirk, nodding at the map under Steve’s arm.

 

“It looks like the park is a few miles away,” stated Steve, blushing slightly. “Do you have a specific path you take there?”

 

“Yeah, the foot bath,” replied Darcy with a roll of her eyes. “I know it’s not on the map, but I promise it’s right where I said it is.”

 

Clint felt his lips twitch upwards. Darcy was pretty amusing to watch when she got annoyed. Though even he had to admit, Steve needed to relax. He trusted Darcy not to get them horribly lost at least.

 

Jane and Pepper stepped out of the house before Steve could respond, followed almost immediately by Thor and Natasha. At this point, the only one they needed was Btruce. Speaking of, where was the scientist?

 

Pulling a set of keys from her pocket, Darcy headed back towards the house, ducking inside without so much as a word to the others. It was almost unnerving for Clint to see her so quiet. Based on the worried looks Pepper and Jane exchanged, the quiet, reserved thing was completely abnormal for the intern.

 

Once Darcy was back inside, Jane turned a worried gaze to Pepper. “Do you think she’s upset with us or about Coulson?”

 

“Probably Coulson,” stated Tony with a shrug. “It sucks to come home to an empty house without warning.” The knowing tone in Tony’s voice was weird to hear, completely out of character for the engineer. “Burying the people you love isn’t the hard part- it’s coming home to their ghosts.” Tucking his hands in his pocket, a faraway look sort of crossed Tony’s face. “Hell, us being here is probably helping.”

 

The look of realization that crossed Pepper’s face was like a smack to the head for Clint. How he’d forgotten the genius had once gone through the same thing as Darcy, Clint wasn’t sure, but it meant the genius was probably right. After all, he was the one with the personal experience to back up his statement. He’d even been about the same age a Darcy.

 

“Do you really think so?” asked Jane nervously, glancing back towards where Darcy had gone. “I feel like we’re intruding.”

 

“Trust me, it’s better,” assured Tony, his lips thinning. “Doing this alone is a lot worse.”  


Jane and Pepper shared a glance before Pepper opened her mouth to say something. She was cut off by Bruce exiting the house though, followed by a beeping and Darcy as she hopped out the door and locked it behind her.

 

She paused slightly as she rejoined the group, raising an eyebrow at Clint. “What’s up, Robinhood? You look like you swallowed a lemon.”

 

“Nothing,” stated Clint, though he couldn’t help the way he shifted uneasily under her narrowed gaze. It seriously reminded him of the look Coulson would give him when he knew something was up and wanted to know what it was.

 

However, instead of continuing to stare him down like Coulson would have, Darcy turned to Jane with an equally accusatory gaze. “You guys were talking about me.”

 

“W-what?” sputtered Jane, quickly glancing at the others hopefully. “No, we weren’t…”

 

“Yeah, you definitely were,” insisted Darcy dismissively as she turned towards the gate leading to the front garden and street. “Anyone want to share?”

 

“Pep and Jane thought we were intruding,” spoke up Tony, ignoring the glares both women threw at him as he passed to fall into step with her. “I tried to tell them they were wrong, but they wouldn’t listen.”

 

Darcy snorted, shaking her head as she pushed through the gate, motioning for the others to follow. “Please, no one would be here if it bothered me.” She shoved her hands harshly in her pockets then, kicking an errant rock as she paused to hold the gate open. “Hell, dad once said ‘It’s easier to wrestle with grief when you know there’s another around to catch you’.” She spun back towards the group then, giving them a resigned look. “I know what I’m doing here and no one is bothering me.”

 

Clint winced at the look in her eyes, the haunted edge reminding him- all of them- this wasn’t the first loss she’d faced. There was something more there, too. A pointed sort of look that seemed to replace the haunted one as she met Clint’s eyes, her gaze knowing. It was like she knew he’d been in her exact place once, years ago. The look made him shiver. How did she always seem to just look through him?

 

Natasha’s hand landed on his shoulder heavily, snapping him back to the moment at hand. Darcy was already out of sight when he blinked, as was most of the group. Only Bruce and Natasha had lingered.

 

“Come on Clint,” encouraged Natasha, guiding him forward with the hand on his shoulder. “We need to catch up with the others.”

 

“Right,” muttered Clint, picking up his pace a little and turning into the street. He could see the others a little further ahead, following after Darcy as she strolled comfortably down the street. There was a touch of tension in her steps though, set in her shoulders and the way her hand shifted in a discrete scanning motion. She was nervous about being spotted. And why wouldn’t she be? This was her home and she was running around with the entire Avengers team following her.

 

He’d be nervous, too. They weren’t exactly subtle.

 

“So where’s this park anyway?” asked Tony loudly from the front of the group. Loudly enough that Darcy cringed at least.

 

“Up near the center of town,” replied Darcy, her voice a little on edge. “It’s a thirty-minute walk.”

 

“A full thirty minutes?” spoke up Natasha as she picked up her pace to catch up with the group. “I’m not sure Tony can handle that. I’ve never seen him walk for thirty full minutes at once.”

 

“He did once,” picked up Pepper, a faint smirk tilting up his lips. “He was trying to impress a marathon runner. Happy had to pick him up.”

 

Natasha broke into laughter at that and even Steve snorted a little in amusement. It helped lighten the heavy mood that had draped the group from the earlier discussion, even though it left Tony pouting.

 

“Hey, I made it _40 minutes_ , thank you,” objected Tony, though the pout was exaggerated and clearly meant as a joke.

 

“Maybe 40 minutes before you called Happy,” corrected Pepper, her hand slipping into his with a smile.

 

Clint watched the way Tony squeezed her hand slightly, using the contact to draw her just a little closer. It was sweet, but surprisingly subtle for the playboy. Then again, when he thought about it, his displays of affection with Pepper tended to be less publically over the top. He knew privately they were still pretty extreme; he recalled when Tony sent the photo of the giant stuffed bunny around to the group asking if they thought Pepper would like it.

 

“I’m so glad those two aren’t into major PDA,” remarked Darcy suddenly from beside him. He nearly jumped out of his skin, which was embarrassing because he should have been a lot more observant than that. When had she dropped back to walk with him anyway? “Can you imagine if they were? Tony would go over the top and we’d all end up sick of them.”

 

“We’d all be going crazy if they were,” agreed Clint with a smirk, the image of Tony driving Pepper crazy by showering her with unnecessary affection popping into his head. The CEO would probably throw Tony out a window if the man ever acted that way.

 

“Just a bit,” chuckled Darcy, folding her arms behind her head and rolling her shoulders slightly. “By the way, I wanted to thank you for distracting me last night. I probably wouldn’t have slept again if you hadn’t.”

 

“It wasn’t a problem,” assured Clint, his cheeks reddening a little. “I’m just glad it helped.”

 

“Distractions are about the only way I fall back asleep after something like that,” admitted Darcy, her head tilting back so she could look up at the sky. “Well, that or haunt forum sites. There’s a great group, totally progressive, that’s pretty awesome.”

 

“Progressive as in forward thinking or radical?” asked Clint, mind immediately shifting to suspicious. He’d been with SHIELD for too long; he knew there were some pretty radical groups online.

 

Darcy made an aborted humming noise and lifting one of her hands to wobble it back and forth. “Kinda? They aren’t hurting anyone, they just want to see more transparency and fewer secrets. After New York, I get it.” The hand rose between them, palm turned towards him in a ‘stop’ motion. “And before you say anything, no, they don’t know my dad worked for one of those agencies or that I’m in any way in support of SHIELD. I keep that completely secret.”

 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of you,” assured Clint, holding both hands up in a reassuring motion. “I’m just paranoid.”

 

Scoffing slightly, Darcy shoved her hands in her pockets and offered him a smirk. “Dad asked me the same thing when he found out about the message boards. He looked at everything and cleared it, though.”

 

“Just because he cleared it, doesn’t mean he wasn’t watching them,” pointed out Clint, lips compressing. He needed to check in with Fury, see what he knew about this group.

 

As if reading his mind, Darcy rolled her eyes and picked up her pace. “Put your paranoia on the backburner and relax a little. I’ll even let you look at the forums when we get back to the house, if it’ll make you feel better.”

 

“It would,” admitted Clint sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head a little. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

 

“Not like we do anything illegal,” stated Darcy with a shrug, pausing a little ahead of him and slowly holding her hand out to him. “Well, unless you consider encouraging unity in problem solving and encouraging the free exchange of information illegal.”

 

“None of that is illegal as long as the information they’re discussing was obtained legally,” replied Clint, though he somehow doubted that was the case. He might trust Darcy now, but she was young enough that she could still get pulled into some shifty business if she weren’t careful. He’d definitely need to look into these people; he was responsible for killing Coulson, watching out for his daughter was the least he could do.

 

Glancing at her extended hand, he slowly reached out and took it, watching a wince cross her face before she tightened her fingers around his and pulled him towards the front of the group. “C’mon, Steve doesn’t really know where he’s going and I’d rather not get lost on the way to the park. Amityville isn’t that big, but you can still get turned around.”

 

Nodding, Clint allowed himself to be pulled to the front of the group with Darcy and tried to ignore the way his hand warmed beneath hers. He didn’t want to consider why holding her smaller fingers in his larger ones might feel as right as it did. Nope, he definitely wasn’t going there.

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

“Well, this park is very...” stated Natasha with clear hesitancy. Clint knew she had to be trying very hard not to say something derogative if she was being this hesitant, but he could understand why. Amityville was very small town (as Darcy had pointed out), the complete opposite of New York. Unless you’d lived in small-town America before (like he had), it could be hard to wrap your mind around some of the habits people in tiny places developed.

 

“Boring?” suggested Tony as he glanced around the area where children were running. He paused for a moment, tilting his head as something caught his eye out on the grass. “What's with the outside dojo?”

 

Darcy actually frowned a little, opening her mouth to respond only for a shout to stop her.

 

“Darcy!” The shout was followed by a guy running up the grass, waving as he nearly skidded to a halt before her. He had dark skin and hair along with a huge grin that set his whole face alight. “You're back!”

 

“Antoine!” exclaimed Darcy in surprise, her eyes going wide. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to some military academy.”  


“Yeah, I am,” confirmed Antoine with a grin. “But we do get breaks.”  


“So you're on a break?” asked Darcy, tilting her head curiously at the guy, her body slowly relaxing.

 

“Yep, just visiting home,” confirmed Antoine, his eyes finally moving to the group behind her. His jaw dropped almost immediately as his eyes swept over Clint. “Shit, you're Agent Barton.”

 

Clint blinked in surprise, feeling somewhat sheepish and more than a little surprised he'd even been recognized. Then the name registered. Agent Barton. It wasn't bow-guy or Hawkeye or even hawk-guy with this kid, it was Agent Barton. No one called him Agent Barton outside of SHIELD.

 

Beside him, Darcy frowned. “How'd you know that?

 

Antoine still looked shell shocked. “He’s legendary at the academy. Everyone knows about Agent Barton.”

 

“You're at the SHIELD academy,” surmised Natasha, stepping forward a little as she spoke up. Her eyes dragged over the young man carefully, probably looking for markers that would confirm her statement.

 

“And you're Agent Romanoff,” stated Antoine, his jaw practically hitting the ground. “Geez Darcy, how do you know these guys?”  


“I didn't until recently,” replied Darcy sadly, shrugging a bit. “They worked with my dad. I only met them maybe a month ago.”

 

Antoine's brows furrowed further. “Is your dad with SHIELD?”  


“Was,” corrected Darcy quietly, her arms crossing protectively across her chest. “He died during New York.”  
  
“Shit,” muttered Antoine, opening his arms to Darcy but not making a move to hug her. Instead, he made it clear she could step forward and get a hug if she wanted one, but he wouldn't push it. Apparently, most people who knew her seemed familiar with her aversion to touch, just not clear on when or if it would be broken. “I'm so sorry, girl. The aliens took a lot that day.”

 

“It was Loki actually,” corrected Darcy quietly, pulling her arms closer around her body and shaking her head at his silent offer. “Loki stabbed him during his escape.”

 

Again, the struck look crossed Antoine's face. “Stabbed by...your dad- your dad was Agent Coulson? Seriously?”

 

Blushing a little, Darcy nodded, her gaze falling away to the outside dojo group. “Yeah, he was.”

 

Antoine let out a whistle, following her gaze to the dojo group. “Geez, that's...he never seemed like the secret agent type. Guess it explains the martial arts mastery though.”

 

“Yeah,” confirmed Darcy, tilting her head towards the group. “Holding sessions outside now?”

 

“It was a nice day,” explained Antoine with a shrug, tucking his hands into his pockets as something seemed to finally hit him. “Phil used to say the fresh air was good for us, remember?”

 

“Yeah, it was how he justified dragging me to amusement parks all the time,” remarked Darcy, smiling a touch sadly. “He used to insist the best fresh air was found at the top of every roller coaster in whatever park we were in.”

 

“Your dad was a real adrenaline junky, wasn't he?” remarked Antoine, shaking his head a little.

 

“He could be,” agreed Darcy, her voice wavering a little even as she remained focused on the group. Except her eyes weren’t focused at all; Clint could tell she was falling into her own head a little. “He liked speed, that was for sure.”

 

Antoine chuckled slightly, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m pretty sure some of it was him just trying to get you out of the house and somewhere with people.”

 

“Probably,” admitted Darcy quietly as her gaze wondered towards the sky. “He didn’t necessarily push me, but he was always trying to convince me to go normal places and do normal things.”

 

For a moment, Antoine stood quietly, staring at her like he couldn’t figure out what to make of her. This man’s look was actually unsettling for Clint; it was pretty clear he wanted to ask Darcy something but wasn’t sure how to. And those types of questions were usually invasive and extremely personal. It made Clint want to step in and protect her, to make sure this guy didn’t upset her inadvertently by saying something stupid.

 

“What’s up, Antoine?” prompted Darcy, though her eyes never left the sky above. “I know you wanna ask me something.”

 

Sighing, Antoine rubbed a hand faintly through his hair before apparently deciding just to dive into his question. “You didn’t have a normal life when you were younger, did you?”

 

Clint felt his stomach twist at the question; invasive was right. There was nothing about that question that wasn’t personal and potentially upsetting, especially in Darcy’s case. He wanted to interrupt, to step in and draw the conversation away from this topic, but something was holding him back. Maybe it was the way Darcy seemed unphased by the question or maybe it was the way she was staring at the sky like it offered every answer she needed, but somehow interrupting felt wrong.

 

“Normal is relative,” stated Darcy at last, lowering her gaze back to the students in the class. She stared at them a moment longer before turning her attention completely back onto Antoine. “Compared to most people’s childhoods, mine wasn’t normal by a long shot. Compared to the average SHIELD background, my childhood runs closer to the ‘normal’ line.”

 

“That’s really scary given there are more people with jacked up personal histories than I want to think about,” countered Antoine, sighing when a student in the martial arts group suddenly fell over. “I should get back over there.”

 

“Someone has to teach those kids how to kick right,” agreed Darcy, shoving her hands into her pocket and nodding at Antoine. “Take care. Maybe I’ll see you around SHIELD soon.”

 

Nodding, Antoine turned towards the rest of the group, offering them all a wave. “It was good to meet you guys. Keep an eye on Darcy, trouble tends to find her.”

 

“Speak for yourself Mister ‘I swear we can get the car on the roof’,” snorted Darcy slightly, shaking her head.

 

“You are never going to let me live that down, are you?” asked Antoine with an exaggerated sigh.

 

Darcy smirked a bit, shaking her head. “Dude, the car ended up in Principle Applency’s office after it fell _through the ceiling._ I’m pretty damn sure that will never be a) not funny or b) something you’ll live down.”

 

“On second thought, maybe you should make her fend for herself,” joked Antoine, glaring slightly at Darcy.

 

“You’d miss me too much,” dismissed Darcy, making a shooing motion towards Antoine. “Now go help those kids before someone gets hurt.”

 

Antoine opened his mouth like he was about to object, only to be cut off by a shout from the direction of the dojo group. Wincing a shooting his friend an apologetic look, he turned back towards the group, waving a bit at Darcy as he did. “See ya around, Darce. We are going to do something while you’re in town.”

 

“You got it,” called back Darcy with a casual wave before she turned back towards the group with a shrug. She gave them a weird look almost immediately, raising an eyebrow at them like they had done something weird. “What’s with the stares?”

 

Clint blinked and glanced around the group. The various looks of shock, surprise, and curiosity he found present on the others might have been amusing, if he weren’t pretty sure his own face looked similar. The comment about the car kept going through his head; what had they been doing with a car on a roof?

 

“Car on the roof?” asked Tony, one of the genius’ eyebrows rising. “What did Agent think about that one?”

 

Darcy shrugged a little, an attempt a looking innocent briefly flitting across her face. It didn’t last though; the smirk that curled her lips was anything but innocent. “Not what he probably should have.”

 

“Oh this I have to hear,” stated Pepper, her interest clearly piqued. She dialed it back a second later, clearing her throat a little. “I mean, if you want to.”

 

Smirking, Darcy motioned them towards a small snack stand in the middle of the park. “Let’s get some food and I’ll tell you what happened.”

 

“Thor can get us food while you tell us what happened,” stated Tony, half throwing his wallet at the blond god.

 

The billfold smacked Thor in the face and the god momentarily blinked at the leather object before he looked back at Tony. “What is it you wish ordered?”

 

“Whatever you want,” stated Darcy with a shrug, heading for a table and dropping onto the metal picnic bench beside it. “Everything there’s good.”

 

“Come on Thor, I’ll give you a hand,” offered Jane, patting Thor on the arm and leading him towards the counter. Steve glanced between the groups for a moment before following after Jane and Thor. It was probably better that way; whatever had happened probably wouldn’t sit well with the supersoldier.

 

As Steve, Jane, and Thor headed for the snack shack, Darcy motioned for the others to take seats. Clint dropped onto the bench directly beside Darcy, Tony plopping down on the other side of her and dragging Pepper into his lap as he did. The CEO looked a little miffed at the motion, but allowed it all the same. Natasha dropped beside Clint, dragging Bruce down beside her.

 

When everyone was seated Darcy, leaned forward towards them with a wicked grin. “So, I know most of you didn’t have the typical high school experience, but you guys know what a senior prank is, right?” Everyone nodded slowly, their eyes glued to the young brunette woman. Her smirk widened. “Okay. So, if you haven’t figured it out yet, Antoine and I went to high school together. And during our senior year…”

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

_“You sure this is going to work?” asked Mary skeptically, glancing at an old dodge._

_“It’ll be fine,” assured Antoine as he went around to the controls for the portable, hydraulic lift he’d ‘borrowed’ from his cousin’s garage._

_Darcy snorted. “I’m with Mary, this isn’t gonna work.”_

_Antoine rolled his eyes and glanced up at her. “If you’re so skeptical, then why are you here?”_

_“Because I’m never gonna let you live this down when it fails,” stated Darcy simply, folding her arms and leaning against a tree._

_Antoine scoffed. “Then prepared to be floored by my_ genius _.”_

_Hitting a button, everyone watched the car begin to rise, shaking slightly and spinning in the air as the portable crane shuttered and extended. Several times, it looked like the crane might fall over, but the car somehow magically landed on the roof of the school. Or at least it did for all of two seconds. A heavy groaning sound echoed through the area momentarily before the car suddenly tilted back on the roof and disappeared from sight. The sound was followed by a loud crash that shook the ground and the sudden, sharp wail of sirens._

_Antoine cursed as Darcy sighed and shot him an ‘I told you so’ look before dashing for the car, Mary dragging Antoine along behind her._

_\-----------------------------------------------_

 

“So when you said a car went through the roof of the school, you meant literally,” stated Pepper in something paramount to awe. “That’s…”

 

“Horrible?” suggested Bruce mildly, the bench creaking as he shifted.

 

“Epic?” suggested Tony, one of his hands rising to rub at Pepper’s shoulder soothingly.

 

“An absolutely terrible idea that we should have never attempted to execute,” stated Darcy with a shrug, leaning a little more on the table. “We kinda figured that part out _after_ the car was in the office.”

 

“You admitted you thought it was a bad idea though,” pointed out Natasha, her arms crossing on the table beside Clint.

 

“Well, yeah,” confirmed Darcy with a snort. “I thought the crane was gonna fall over or they were gonna drop the car. I didn’t think the car would even make it up onto the roof.”

 

“Wow,” muttered Clint, shaking his head a little. He could just imagine how pissed Coulson was when this happened. “So what did Coulson say when he found out?”

 

“Not what you’d think,” admitted Darcy with a bit of a smile. “Dad always surprised me, and this time was no exception.”

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

_Stumbling into the kitchen, Darcy spotted the cup of coffee set aside for her and half dove for it. The hot liquid felt amazing sliding down her throat and it helped push back some of the exhaustion that came from only getting four hours of sleep. She didn’t have to go to school today, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still get up at the same time she had every day for the last four years, either._

_“A car on the roof?” asked Phil from across the kitchen. He was at the stove and his back was to her, the scent of pancakes filling the room. “Really Darcy?”_

_“Not my idea,” stated Darcy as she finally came up for air, half her cup of coffee already gone. “Antoine was the one who thought it would be funny.”_

_“You should have at least checked the maximum weight capacity of the roof,” remarked Phil as he flipped off the stove and brought two plates of pancakes to the table. Setting one in front of Darcy, he placed the other across from her and slid into his seat._

_“That’s what I said, but none of us knew how to read blueprints or where to find them,” explained Darcy with a shrug. “Honestly, I’m surprised the car even made it to the roof.”_

_Phil hummed a bit, glancing at her momentarily before cutting into his food. “We’re going to remedy that. I’m taking you on the field trip to town hall tomorrow to both show you where most blueprints in any given city are kept and I’m going to teach you how to read them.”_

_Darcy paused midway in cutting her own pancakes up. “Wait, what?”_

_“I’m going to show you where to find blueprints and teach you how to read them,” repeated Phil mildly, just before he took a bite of his food._

_She stared at him for a long moment, shock and uncertainty warring as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. Finally, she put her silverware aside and folded her arms on the table. “Are you serious?”_

_“Completely,” replied Phil, taking a sip of his coffee. “Why wouldn’t I be?”_

_“Because I’m pretty sure teaching a kid how to break into a record hall and read blueprints_ isn’t _the normal reaction to finding out they helped accidentally drop a car into the principle’s office,” stated Darcy mildly, stabbing a bite of her own food._

_Phil snorted. “I’m pretty sure grounding you won’t drive home how massive of a screw up that was. At least if I teach you something from this, it won’t happen again.”_

_“Point,” admitted Darcy with a laugh, refocusing on her food. “So when do we head out?”_

\---------------------------------

 

“So, Phil taught you how to break into a building and read blueprints rather than ground you,” stated Pepper slowly, almost looking floored at the idea.

 

“Yep,” confirmed Darcy with a laugh, grinning at Steve, Jane, and Thor as they appeared with trays laden with food. “It was a good lesson, too. He was right, grounding me wouldn’t have helped. At least now I won’t make the same mistakes I did before.”

 

“That’s terrifying,” muttered Bruce.

 

Beside Clint, Natasha began to chuckle. Clint couldn’t help it; he joined her. What Darcy described was so Coulson, it was easy to imagine him standing in the kitchen as he made pancakes and telling his daughter that she was going to learn how to properly break into a building. The argument for teaching her over grounding her was completely valid. He could only imagine the chaos that would have come from that.

 

Several trays hit the table, nearly overflowing with food. Jane joined Pepper and Tony on the other side of the table, with Thor dropping into the seat beside her. Almost immediately, Darcy started distributing food and spreading it out, telling people to try different things and stating what of the food that had been ordered. Clint leaned back and allowed Darcy to hand various things to him, telling him to try them. And he did without question. He trusted her to give him good advice, he realized. Trusted her in a way he didn’t trust anyone else there, save Natasha. It was a weird thought, but he tried not to let it bother him. Instead, he listened to the others laugh and exchange thoughts, Tony filling Thor, Jane, and Steve in on what they’d missed while they were getting food. Slowly, he found himself relaxing, and when the group got up to leave thirty minutes later, he felt more at peace than he had at any time in the past month.


End file.
